Heavy Is the Crown- The Story of Bowser
by Byronofsidius
Summary: In the Gora Empire, populated by the koopa and goomba peoples, a very different kind of koopa boy is born into the low caste of the green shell tribe. This boy is Bowser, and this tale is his own.
1. Chapter 1

Luther let his wife lean heavily on him as they trudged along the beach, the high tide a good twenty feet away on their left, washing the sands with a 'whoosh' as it went back out again. They grunted as they struggled along, keeping well away from the other couples coming along behind them, koopas all. They were the only green tribe koopas, bipedal turtle-folk who dwelled mostly within the lands of the Gora Empire. Of the colored tribes, red, blue, yellow and green, they were effectively the lowest caste, commoners deserving of little entitlement or respect.

Yet for the Great Birthing, which took place once every three years, all were as equals. Luther and Cassandra were the only green tribes bold enough to hop aboard the stretch kart with the reds who mostly comprised their neighborhood, though. The others had waited; Luther wondered how many would end up laying their eggs en route to the shores of Piko Lake.

Cassandra cried out, viciously clenching his shell just over his shoulder, the hardened carapace creaking from the pressure. "Take heart, woman! We're nearly there!"

"Oh, suck on a pirhana plant, you twit," she growled at him, the contraction passing. "If we don't stop soon, these eggs are coming on the move. This is fine." Luther quickly used his hands to dig out a depression in the sand, into which Cassandra stepped and squatted down. He then grabbed a blanket out of the bag he'd been carrying, which she wrapped around herself for the sake of some semblance of privacy. This was their first batch of children, so she didn't realize that nobody would be looking.

The next contraction came, and she pushed with all of her might, veins standing out on her throat and forehead. Luther let her crush his hands in hers, and with a grunt, she staggered, sighed, and smiled. "Luther, it's happened," she said wistfully. "It's over now. Let's see how many there are." She let him pull her up out of the laying pit, and as she came away with the blanket, they stared down together in disbelief at what had come from her. "Luther," she rasped, clutching his arm.

"Now, now, Cass, it's fine," he said, no strength in his voice. "It's just, not what we expected." As the tide rolled serenely to one side of them and the cries of other mothers laying their eggs filled the air, the scent of a long, warm summer day still redolent about them, they stared down at the lone, giant egg Cassandra had laid.

It was easily the size of three or four normal koopa eggs. Cassandra looked up into Luther's face and forced a tired smile. "Well, he'll be a big one."

As they walked back toward the group kart, Cassandra stumbling but held up by her mate, the red tribes began quickly reasserting their superior rank, passing them by with hardly a word spoken to the common greens. They were forced to wait until everyone else was situated on the flatbed of the kart before being allowed to sit down atop their baggage.

Cassandra tried not to complain, but she kept grunting and having to shift position as they jounced along back toward the village. "Will there be this much luggage when we return?"

"Possibly more," Luther said quietly. "The Doreans alone had five. Most of the others had two or three, a few had four. We might have to load onto the reserve bucka." He looked around at the red tribe koopas, pitched his voice lower, and said, "That's actually far more likely going to be the case."

They remained quiet until the kart pulled into the lot behind the magistrate's office building, all of the fathers getting up. "Do I wait here on the kart," Cassandra asked as Luther rose.

"Yes, just until I return. Wait here for me. We have to go give our numbers." He took a deep breath, and hopped off of the flatbed. The line formed quickly as the fathers shuffled into the rear entrance of the building, and Cassandra watched, ire rising as her husband was systematically pushed, pulled and jostled to the back.

She lay back on the bags and thought about how they had gotten here. For seven years they hadn't been able to conceive, growing more desperate with each passing year. Finally, at thirty-five years old, Luther had decided he wanted to do whatever was necessary to make it happen.

The couple had traveled far to the north, into Hyrule Kingdom, in search of a famed sorceror named Gannondorf. Local legend had it that he had access to all manner of taboo magical powers, and many told of his miraculous potions and tinctures. It was said he even had an elixir which would guarantee a would-be mother could bring a child to term. Hearing this, the koopa couple embarked on a journey she hardly recalled.

There had been a lot of running, hiding, and fighting their way clear of strange land-squid creatures that spat some kind of rocks from tube shaped snouts. Luther had brought enough fire flowers for them to hang onto and use for self-defense, allowing them to survive largely unscathed.

The only other thing Cassandra remembered vividly was Gannondorf himself. A large, brooding figure in dark brown robes, his gray flesh emanating a cold, calculated malice and hatred. His hawkish nose poked out from under his hood as he sat across from them in a cave, four animated, armed skeletons keeping guard around a heavy wooden trunk. _And the smell of him, _she thought idly, _the smell of him was dust and foul meat. _

Gannondorf had gladly given them an elixir to aid in catching pregnant, asking only for one hundred coins in exchange. Before handing over the bottle, he asked them, "What sort of child do you want? With my enchantments, you may make them be whatever you desire. You each may chose one attribute to give him or her, but be warned; all things come with a balancing weight."

Luther had asked that his child be strong. Cassandra had requested the child be intelligent. Gannondorf waved his hands over the vial of light blue liquid, and quickly it turned crimson. He smiled, angled, knife-like teeth flashing in the light of his cave fire.

"Your child shall be strong of body and wit, but he shall lack speed and wisdom. Of temperance, he will have little, if any," said the sorceror. He handed Cassandra the vial, and there her memories of the journey ended, melting into darkness.

The elixir had worked, and now they had their child, a son if Gannondorf had guessed correctly. _Or maybe it wasn't a guess at all, _she thought. _Maybe the elixir was designed to produce a son, not a daughter. Either way, we finally have a child of our own._

It was almost an hour later when Luther returned, and she had taken to the edge of the flatbed so the others could retrieve their bags. She offered her husband a wan grin. "Did they seem confused on the count?"

"No, but the man I spoke with seemed surprised by the size I described. He asked me if might have been sleeping with a spiney." They shared a laugh at that, then headed slowly for the hovel that was home. It would be the longest week of their lives before returning for the hatching.

The full moon shone overhead, illuminating the strand more brightly than the guards had ever seen. Between the darkness of the lake's waters and the clear view of all on the beach, a haunting vision stretched before them. Fire flowers tucked in their belts, Rompus and Willow, green tribe winged koopas, glided up and down the strand, keeping watch over a newly laid batch of eggs.

"I hate these quiet laying grounds," Rompus complained, his nasally voice piercing Willow's ears. She hated it when he got whiny, because the sound of his voice became more than odd, pitching into downright annoying. "They creep me out."

"Stow it, Romp," she muttered. She pointed to movement along the beach. "Beetle Bailey. You want this one?" Without a verbal reply, Rompus swiftly dove ahead and downward, scooping up the giant blue insect creature. He flew up a good fifty feet, positioned himself over a nasty bit of rock outcropping, and dropped the creature to its death, shell shattered and body broken on the jagged stones. He flew back to Willow then, flushed and bright-eyed. "Better?"

"Always a rush," he said. "Why are they always the first ones at a laying stretch?"

"Because they can smell the shells. There's a kind of film on koopa eggs that they ingest, it's kind of a superfood for Baileys," Willow answered. "It's not just koopa eggs, either. Spiney eggs have it too."

"Why don't we get assigned to protecting those?"

"Because spineys are just another animal in the Gora Empire. You ever meet a spiney that could talk," she asked cynically. Rompus pouched his lips disapprovingly. "Thought not." She descended toward one of the partially covered egg pits, looking down at them carefully. Rompus came down, walked up the strand toward another pit. Willow crouched down, staring at the little round shells with their slight, rusty red hue, barely noticable unless one looked hard.

"Willow," Rompus called out, his tone alarmed. Willow spun about, fire flower in her left hand, right hand raised with a swirling fireball in it. Rompus was looming over a pit, back to her, head angled down.

"What's wrong, Romp?" But he said nothing, instead using on hand to wave her over to him. She extinguished the fireball by making a fist and put the flower back in her belt, approaching him cautiously. As she came up beside him, Rompus just pointed down. She looked down and gasped, jaw hanging open. "Dear gods," she rasped. "It's enormous."

"The tint, Willow, look at it," he replied, smiling broadly. "It's green." She saw it now, a faint coloration along the shell, and felt tears threaten at the backs of her eyes. Winged they may have been, but they too had long suffered from the Empire's caste system, denied rights and privileges because of their status as commoners.

"This could change things," she whispered. "What if other greens start having them this size? We could be respected as equals with the reds again, maybe even the yellows."

"One thing at a time, Willow," Rompus said, for once acting as the voice of reason. "First, we have to guard this egg." And so they did, until the sun made its ascent into over the horizon and a pair of red flying koopa guards, paratroopas, came along to relieve them.

Neither would be able to stop thinking of that giant egg.

Cassandra paced back and forth in the hut's main room, recovered from delivery. It had been four days now, and though she knew it was driving Luther mad, she continued wearing a groove in the threadbare rug laid over the stone floor. Luther looked up from his paper and sipped his coffee. "Sit down, Cass. Worrying won't bring the day of retrieval any quicker."

"But what if he hatches early," she asked, bags under her eyes. Luther hadn't seen her in such a state since their return from Hyrule with the elixir. "What if he hatches early and one of the guards takes him away for their own?"

"You know they wouldn't do that," Luther said, searching his mind for a means of distracting his wife. "Hear, now, did you pick a name for him yet?" Cassandra seemed to go blank for a moment, then shook her head. She nipped off into the hut's bedroom, returning with a heavy old book. She sat down across from Luther and opened it. "Which book is that?"

"It's 'Legends of the Lands of Famicom'," she said, beaming. "I've been reading through this in the hopes of finding a name that would fit. I've come across a couple of giants, but they were humanoid, so it didn't seem to fit." She fetched herself a cup of coffee and started reading, allowing for a comfortable quiet to settle between them.

It was about an hour later that Luther got his lunch pail ready and gave his goodly wife a kiss before heading down the road for work. At the time, and for the previous five years, he had been a bricklayer for one of the castles blonging to Emperor Harin's family. Specifically, it had been for Dopa Harin, the second son. Now, he was about to start in on the construction of interior defenses per the Emperor's request. Each of his seven children would have their own castle, while he and Empress Kylie shared the eighth and largest keep.

Cassandra kept reading after he left, and a couple of hours later, she had a name for their son. She couldn't wait for Luther to get home so she could share it with him. She wondered how her boy would react to it. She believed that names carried an importance, a weight, of their own. Cassandra whispered his name aloud to herself.

Moments later, many miles away, the egg began to crack. Bowser was about to be born.


	2. Chapter 2- Tiny Beast

Galdro flitted along, a proud blue tribe winged koopa of remarkable handsomness (for one of his species), his thoughts far from the eggs below. Meanwhile, Meechum, a yellow winged koopa paired with him for the day's duty, worked his staff up under the spiney that had strayed too close to the egg pits, trying to flip it over.

"If you're done posing for non-existent admirers up there, Galdro, I could use some help down here," Meechum called up. Galdro spun toward the yellow tribe and winged down to his side, adding his own staff to the effort. Flipped over, the spiney thrashed helplessly, its spiked shell wedged in the sand. "Thank you. Now what do we do with it?"

"Simple," said Galdro, reaching into one of the tiny pouches tied to his waist sash.

"No, no, not this again," Meechum protested, grabbing at the bag. Galdro shoved him away roughly and pointed at him with one shaking finger.

"Do not forget your place, Meechum," Galdro snarled. "I am a blue tribe. I answer only to the blackshells, and my blue superiors of rank. Now, open its mouth." Meechum hung his head, shoulders slumped.

"Must I? This is cruel, Galdro."

"Just do it," said the blue tribe with a leering grin. Meechum rounded the spiney's body, approached its head and knelt down, catching it by the neck. It struggled, snapping with hard, square teeth at him.

"This is wrong, Galdro," he said, releasing the creature and rolling back and away. "It is no longer a threat to us or the eggs," he continued, standing up. "We can knock it out and drag it away."

"Nuts to that," said Galdro playfully, pulling out a single walnut-like seed between thumb and forefinger. "This'll be a blast, ha ha!" With uncanny agility the blue tribe danced up to the spiney's head and dropped the seed into its mouth as it snapped at him, joining Meechum as the yellow sprinted away two dozen yards. "Fire in the hole!"

The fire flower seed is never to be ingested, and here was precisely why. Once the seed hit the spiney's stomach, it burst apart in an explosion of its fiery magic, blowing blood and organs and shell all over the place. The smouldering crater of its exposed underbelly lay ragged and singed, stinking of shredded bowels and half-digested food. Meechum gritted his teeth and looked away, hoping to keep down his gorge.

"Whoo! Isn't that something, Meechum," Galdro crowed, clapping the yellow on the shell.

"You'd better hope none of the eggs were damaged," Meechum said weakly. Galdro made an annoyed face.

"Come on, man, they're just reds." Meechum just stared toward the egg pits. Galdro sighed. "Fine, let's check on them," he said, sulking. The pair walked toward the closest egg pit, finding no damage to the four eggs within, which were now thoroughly crimson. "See?"

"We have to check them all," said Meechum, walking on. As he came to the next pit, he gasped, hands flying to his mouth. "Oh," he managed.

"What is it," Galdro asked, coming alongside him. The pair found themselves looking down at a chubby, tall newborn green koopa, one like they'd never seen before. It lay on its belly, hands clamped over its ears, eyes peering around the curved walls of its pit. Its shell was a dark green, studded with small yellow circles, and two stubs protruded from its temples, book-ending a tuft of blood red hair. Its fingers already bore half-inch claws.

"It, it's a koopa," Meechum stammered. He could feel the stirrings of a grin opening the right side of his mouth. "It's a green tribe koopa."

"Koopas don't look like that," Galdro said. "It's an abomination." The newborn seemed to realize that whatever traumatic event had taken place, it was over, and it wobbled up onto its legs, reptilian tail waggling back and forth. It craned its neck to look up at them and smiled, revealing a mouth full of blunted little teeth. Galdro took half a step back and shook his head. "We need to get rid of it."

"What? No, Galdro, you can't be serious," Meechum said. "I don't condone what you just did back there, but I had to allow it. You outrank me." Meechum moved to put himself between Galdro and the infant, staff in hands at the ready. "But this, I will never allow."

"Oh? Never, you say," asked Galdro, face drawn down, shifting easily into an assailing stance.

"Never in life. Status be damned, blue tribe. This will not," he said, and no more, as Galdro took the opportunity to level a swift sucker punch with his staff. Meechum yipped as agony put out a press release in his forehead, calling for all nerves to report immediate signals of 'holy hell that hurts' to every conscious thought available. He tumbled to one side, his arms and legs weak from the shock of the blow.

"Galdro, don't," he tried to say, but it came out slurred. The blue tribe had hit him harder than he realized, scrambling his brain. Meechum watched helplessly as Galdro set his staff aside and crouched down, holding out another fire flower seed for the infant. If he'd had the strength to scream, he would have.

The infant, naturally curious and, of course, hungry, didn't hesitate, snatching the seed and gobbling it, swallowing quickly. Galdro slipped his staff back into his hand and rolled back and away. The infant made a pained face, snarls and whines of discomfort escaping its throat. The tiny koopa clutched its stomach, hunched over.

All of this Meechum saw through a veil of tears. _At least I'm close enough that this will kill me,_ he thought. _Seeing this cruelty, how would I go on?_ Yet the tiny koopa did not burst apart.

It opened its mouth, and a roaring cone of flames erupted from between its teeth, corruscating fire that blasted Galdro back. The blue tribe koopa howled in agony as the fire washed over him, turning his staff to ashes, his scaled skin crisping even as the force of the breath weapon knocked him clear.

Meechum, stunned but brought out of his fugue by the enormity of what he was seeing, knelt in the sand, watching Galdro roll around in the sand, sobbing as his skin peeled and bled. The koopa infant climbed up out of its pit, toddling over to the yellow tribe paratroopa, staring up at him with wide, curious eyes.

And Meechum patted him on the head and picked him up, gently returning him into his pit. The yellow paratroopa took off his rucksack and rummaged about inside, bringing out a container of fresh greens and setting it down, lid off, next to the little fellow. The baby tucked in greedily.

Meechum rose and stalked over to Galdro, who lay wimpering on his side, ravaged hands held in hooked claws before his eyes. The yellow stepped up to him, near his head, and Galdro slowly moved his head to gaze up into eyes filled with righteous malice.

"I knew that some day your nastiness would come back to haunt you," Meechum said softly, his tone layered in frost. "I never expected it to be like this, though." Galdro reached one hand shakily up toward him for support, but Meechum didn't move. "Your wings are ruined. You can't fly. I can. Would you like me to fly you out of here?"

Galdro tried to lick his lips, settling for nodding weakly.

"That's too bad. I asked you to not give that hatchling the seed, to leave it alone. How does it feel, to not get what you want?" Meechum walked away, folding in his wings and pulling his shell off over his head. He unhinged the two halves, standing wholly exposed on the beach as he used his shell to dig.

Ten minutes later, he returned to Galdro, who had arrived at death's threshold, moments from passing over. Meechum grabbed him by his charred feet and dragged him painfully over rocks and shale to the hole he'd dug out, tossing him unceremoniously in. With his shell he filled the hol back in, leaving Galdro the blue in a shallow, unmarked grave.

He donned his shell once more, letting his wings slide through the natural slits in the armor-like backing. Meechum then returned to the green koopa infant, who lay curled up, asleep and content, the container of food emptied.

He smiled down at the little fellow, and took flight. He would have to report the early birth to the nearest Lakitu so that it could be safely delivered to its parents.


	3. Chapter 3- Registration

Luther had thought Bowser a strange choice for a name until a Lakitu brought their early-hatched child home to them. Seeing his size, the spike and horn stubs, and the long, thick tail, he came around quickly. Bowser had been the name of the last great dragon seen in the Empire's history, an enormous green wyrm of legendary power and wrath.

So it seemed a natural fit to both parents. Cassandra held Bowser close as she walked along beside Luther the day after the Lakitu brought their baby home, heading to the magistrate's office in order to have him officially documented. The block-like gray building, an imposing stone façade leaving no questions of who was in charge in the village, stood before them now.

"This will be interesting," she commented.

"Let's hope not," Luther replied. "I want us to just be in-and-out, no hassles, no worries." Together they ascended the steps and headed inside, entering on a long, dimly lit front lobby with various rows of hastily built wooden chairs lined up along the walls. Seated at the check-in counter was one of the Empire's few humanoid residents, likely an immigrant from Hyrule far to the north. He peered at them tiredly over thin-rimmed glasses, adjusting his tie.

"Can I help you," he droned.

"Yes, our child hatched early," Cassandra said, shifting bowser so his head rested on her shoulder. "We've come to have him recorded." The clerk looked at little Bowser, then rifled through some forms, grabbing one out with a pen and handing both to Luther.

"Down that hallway, on the left side about halfway down," the clerk said, returning to the task of looking tired and bored. Cassandra and Luther headed down the hall he'd pointed to, and when they reached the Records Office, they found themselves entering another gloomy, utilitarian waiting room, though this one was empty except for a counter upon which stood a service bell. They found a quiet corner and sat down so that Luther could fill out the portion of the form intended for parents.

Cassandra sat on the floor and let little Bowser down, smiling warmly at him and trying to baby-talk the boy. Bowser just cocked his head to one side, seemingly intent on just listening. When she paused, he began toddling about, hands out at his sides for balance, tail swishing back and forth heavily.

"Cass, this question wants to know if he hatched crawling, waddling or walking. What should I put down," Luther asked. Cassandra watched as Bowser peered at a basket full of koopa infant toys a few yards away, his face breaking into a wide smile. He began charging the basket, stumbled, then got back up and waddled over to it, grabbing the side and looking into the collection eagerly.

"Waddling. He isn't exactly lithe, husband. I think his tail is part of the problem," she said. Bowser reached down into the basket and pulled out a plastic block with a ball inside of it, which rattled as he shook it violently up and down.

"How much has he cried," Luther asked. Cass felt her proud smile begin to sour a little. She turned confused eyes up at her mate.

"You know what? He hasn't. Not once since that lakitu brought him to us." Luther raised an eyebrow at her.

"Wasn't that what woke me up last night," he asked.

"No, that was me," Cass said. "I woke up suddenly, worried about him, and when I crossed the room to his crib and saw him just sleeping in there, I wept with relief." She shook her head. "He hasn't cried at all. He's hardly made any noise of any kind." The block Bowser was playing with rattled and jounced as he threw it across the carpeted floor, chasing after it as soon as it came to a stop. "Unless you count that," she added, hooking a thumb over her shoulder.

Luther jotted down something to answer the question, then moved on. Cass wasn't sure why, but she didn't want to know what he'd written down. He went through the rest of the form fairly quickly, then took it up to the counter and rang the bell. When he did, Cass saw Bowser twitch, ducking down and spinning toward the noise, stubby claws raised up defensively.

A red tribe koopa wearing spectacles and a plain white button shirt showed up from farther back in the cubicle area hidden from clients' view, looking confused. "Um, can I help you," he asked.

"Our son hatched early," said Luther. "We're here to have him recorded." Cass scooped Bowser up and brought him over to the counter, the clerk looking less than amused.

"You're kidding, right? Sir, how old is he, really? Did you just forget to have him recorded? Because that happens." Luther had suspected they might run into this problem. He lowered his own rucksack, which he almost always had with him, and withdrew from it Bowser's egg, which the lakitu had also brought to their home as proof that Bowser was their hatchling. This he set on the counter, eliciting a short, sharp intake of breath through the clerk's teeth. "Oh. Oh my word. Um, thank you," he said, reaching under the counter for a measuring tape.

The clerk procured a clipboard and a pen for himself, as well as the form from Luther. He measured the shell, jotted a number down, then picked up the shell. "Wait here two, maybe three minutes, I'll have Dr. Tish come get you." Luther and Cass took Bowser back over to the toy basket, where he proceeded to grab out a hard plastic ring, jamming it between his teeth, gnawing on it while making noises like a dog growling.

"Mr. And Mrs. Entem," asked a cultured, smooth voice behind them. The couple looked over to find a stout mouser in a white lab coat and gray scrubs, his stethoscope hung round his neck, large ears twitching.

"Yes, that's us," said Luther, offering the doctor his hand. Tish shook with him, then Cass. He then turned his attention down upon Bowser, who was still holding the ring and gnawing away contentedly. "This is our son, Bowser. He's a singlet."

"A singlet," said Dr. Tish, reaching down for Bowser. "Very rare, these last fifty years or so, very rare indeed. Do you want to come with me, fellow?" Bowser just went still, mouth still clamped on the plastic ring.

"Um, can I check his diaper first," Cass asked timidly. "Just in case."

"Surely. Follow me," said Tish, guiding them through a small office area and into a section of the floor reserved for his part of the magistrate's duties and obligations. He pointed out a restroom for Cass, who ducked inside and locked the door. She opened the changing table set in the wall, taking heart that Bowser had only peed a bit. That morning he'd woken her up by the awful smell of something far worse, but she'd deftly changed him then as now.

Cassandra brought Bowser into Tish's exam room, setting him up on a sheet-covered table. Bowser had released the plastic ring from his mouth, quietly sitting and staring up at his mother. Tish sat down at a desk, flipping the fat red switch on a tall beige tower computer. The unit clicked, clacked and whined as it began booting up, catching Bowser's attention. The boxy green monitor flickered to life, and soon it went black with green text. Tish used his keyboard arrows to navigate to the new patient form.

"All right, first thing's first. What's your son's name?"

"Bowser," Cass said proudly.

"Ah, like the dragon," said the mouser doctor, typing away. "Okay. He's male, check. Okay, Mrs. Entem, please place your son on the scale there and take the toy from him." Cass lifted Bowser up under the arms and toted him to the scale, and halfway there the toy became a non-issue as the oversized dropped it of his own accord. Cass and Luther both did a double take at the scale reading. "Thirty-four pounds, all right," Tish said, punching in the numbers on the keyboard. "Please lay him down flat and hold his leg out."

The doctor measured Bowser's length, then began a brief visual inspection, taking note of the horn nubs, the crimson hair, his brute frame and thick tail. He also noted the spike studs on Bowser's shell, which, like all koopas, could naturally unhook from itself to be removed or covered with clothing. When he was finished, he saved the file and stood up.

"Okay, if you'll follow me, we need to take initial blood an saliva samples, then give him an x-ray," said Tish. In another lab room he took his samples and x-ray, though Luther tried to protest that this new technology struck him as potentially dangerous. Tish assured him it was not, and had them wait out in the lobby while he ran a few tests.

Bowser snacked on some greens Cass had brought with them, and was about finished when Tish came out with a grave look on his face. Cass felt her stomach twist as he stood over them and their son. "What is it," she asked. "What's wrong?"

"Ma'am, I've discovered something highly unusual about your son's physiology. A couple of somethings, in fact. Firstly, as an early hatchling, there's always a risk of him eating something he shouldn't. He appears to have swallowed a fire flower seed." Cass gasped, her husband scoffing behind her.

"Impossible," Luther said. "He would have been blown apart."

"That's just it," Dr. Tish said. "He should be dead. His body seems to have not only tolerated it, but is incorporating the plantlife into his body. I have no idea what this means for him, though I'd love to find out."

"What, like, study him," Luther asked warily.

"Periodically, yes. That would be briliant, if you'll keep bringing him back to me for comparative study. Not here, though. Better at my private practice. I'll get the address for you." He took out his script pad and jotted down the info, handing the paper to Cass. "Now, the other anomaly was in his blood, and I'm not entirely certain what it means yet, as I've never seen anything like it. Rest assured, I'll let you know if I discover anything. Do you have a telephone in your home?"

"We don't," said Luther. "We don't have any need, really."

"Well, you may want to invest in one," said Dr. Tish. "There are subsidies you can apply for. I'll have Patrick fetch you a form, you can get it from him on the way out." Tish reached out and patted Bowser gently atop the head. "There's a good lad. Bring him round my office in a couple of months."

And so Luther and Cassandra Entem left the registrar's office, neither one aware of the details Tish would be putting in his report to the local magistrate and the Central Census Ministry. Not even a week old, and Bowser was already drawing attention. It wouldn't all be good.


	4. Chapter 4- Rank

In his first year of life, Bowser Entem brought his mother and father a great deal of both joy and frightened confusion. It was three weeks after hatching that he finally cried once, smackin his face into a doorframe while chasing after his father through the hut and into the lone bedroom. He'd been just fine until he touched his nose, seeing his hand come away bloody.

Yet word of his uniqueness spread quickly, and the green tribe couple received visitors from early on. Their first visitors were a couple of koopa paratroopas, also greens, named Willow and Rompus. They informed the Entems that they had been two of the guards assigned to protect the eggs along that strand. Fascinated by the size of the egg, they had been eager to see the child born from it.

Next came a yellow paratroopa who Bowser seemed to take quite a shine to, Meechum. He informed them that he had been the one to spot poor little Bowser wandering the beach all by himself, hatched early. Bowser had clearly formed a quick bond with Meechum, who, unlike so many of his and the blue tribes, never once condescended to the Entems while visiting.

Other greens curious about tales they'd heard round the village came to watch little Bowser at play or napping, commenting on how big he was, or how unusual he was for a koopa.

It was seven weeks after he'd been brought home that Bowser got a case of the hiccups and nearly burned their home to the ground. He'd just finished drinking some water when the hiccups started, forcing cute little gasps of air from his mouth. Eyes wide, startled, the koopa infant sat in his modified high chair, his whole body flinching up and down. Cass and Luther both found the sounds he was making adorable, but after a minute, Cass scooped him up and tried burping him, which she'd been told would help.

When he finally did burp, it came out as a swirling ball of fire that struck the wall. Rampant heat and fire caught the cheap wood, pushing Luther to quickly pull off his shell and run water from the tap into it, splashing it onto the burning wall as fast as he could. It took several minutes, but he got the fire out.

And the family home had a new window the next day, after some creative applications of a saw, hinges and some glass framing. It was cheaper than replacing the whole wall.

And at four months old, Bowser received a guest none in the neighborhood would forget.

Morning arrived like the wild haymaker of a desperate boxer that manages to connect, blasting dreams and all attachments of restful sleep to the mat in a stunning phoenix-from-the-ashes victory. Cass sat up and knew right away she'd be up for the whole of the day. There'd be no between-rounds chat with sleep.

Luther lay prone on his stomach in the bed, softly snoring. He'd spent the previous day taking care of Bowser from sunrise to bedtime, his only day off from work used to make up for lost time, as Luther said. Cass felt for him; he needn't work so hard and do so much, but he seemed to be unable or unwilling to take his rest when needed. "You laid his egg, and have cared for him all day, every day, since he came home with us," he often said when he got home from work. "Let me take over until he goes to bed."

And on his one day off each week, Luther let her sleep in and leave off of the chores about the house, so she could recharge and do whatever it was she wanted to do. He spent the first hour feeding Bowser, who had begun taking fruits and meats along with his staple greens, devouring everything with gusto and not a single complaint. Luther would then clean him up, then carry Bowser to the corner of the main room, where he would read to the young koopa from assorted storybooks, complete with pictures.

Most koopa infants could only sit still for this for about five minutes, and they seldom paid full attention. Not so for the child of Cassandra and Luther Entem, no, never think it. Bowser sat ensorcelled by every tale, carefully listening, his eyes going from his father's finger, underscoring the words on the pages, to his father's mouth, staring with fixed intensity at the motions Luther made with jaw, lips and tongue.

Neither Cass nor Luther knew what to make of this behavior.

Cass headed out into the hut's main room, using the embers still smouldering in the tinderbox of her stove to get more kindling burning. She was grabbing butter from their small fridge when a heavy knock came at the door. She hoped it didn't wake Bowser up, swiftly fetching her way over to keep their visitor from knocking again.

When she opened the door, a heavy, metal gloved hand stopped an inch from her face, pulling slowly away to reveal a blackshell koopa in heavy ceremonial armor. Upon each hip was sling a heavy, brutal-looking warhammer, an open-faced helmet worn on his head, his flesh greener than most koopas. She knew of these blackshell warriors, but had never met one.

_A Hammer Brother, _she thought, awestruck. In person, the Hammer Brother was less terrifying than she'd made them out to be in her head, though not by much. His leathery skin creaked as he scowled at her and stepped back and to one side, his massive armor clinking. Stepping aside revealed to her a short, gaunt blue shell koopa of considerable age, a thick white beard hanging from his cheeks and chin. He wore a fine white and gold jacket over white silk trousers, his feet covered in emerald green boots. He looked quite wealthy to Cass, but she could also smell something that stung, a minty medicinal odor that overwhelmed.

The Hammer Brother's voice came like steel scraping on gravel as he said, "Announcing the arrival of Benjamin Godash, Magistrate of the Fourth Province of the Great Gora Empire." Godash inclined his head ever-so-slightly to Cass, then held one gnarled hand out to the Hammer Brother, who handed him a narrow black binder. "I shall remain here, sire," he said.

"Thank you, Turiya," said Godash. "May I come in, Mrs. Entem?" Cass just blinked at him a moment, then nodded, shuffling back and away. Godash peered about with half-lidded eyes, an air of boredom hanging about him. "Charming little place. Where are your husband and child?"

"They're still sleeping," Cass said.

"If you would wake them, then," said Godash with a flap of his hand. Cass grimaced, looking toward the door to the hut's only bedroom. She didn't want to disturb their slumber, especially Luther's, but she knew that she could not disobey a direct order from the magistrate, particularly a blue tribe. To do so would be unheard of, a violation of the recognized caste order of the Empire.

"One moment, lordship," she demured, lowering her head and shuffling to he bedroom door. She opened it to find Luther putting a clean diaper on Bowser, cinching it in place and snapping the tyke's shell back into place. By now Bowser's underbelly had begun to take on the dark yellow hue of the koopas, which should have made him look more like a normal koopa, yet somehow worked in the wrong direction. It made his dark green shell and arms and legs stick out more somehow, along with the fluff of his crimson hair and eyebrows.

Yet he was smiling up at her, and that, at least, was a good sign. He held his chubby hands up for her, and she scooped him up onto her hip, leaving the bedroom with son and husband. Godash gave them a queer little smirk, one that Cass didn't recognize. Luther did, and his teeth ground together in response; it was the look of one who sees before them inferiors, and is glad to have them to poke at.

"Hail, and well met, magistrate," Luther said, stepping slightly ahead of Cass and Bowser, angling himself to partly block them from the older koopa. "Be welcome in our home, though I am sure you won't linger. What business have you with a mere bricklayer and housewife of the green caste?" Godash's smirk soured, then flattened. Both Entems knew the rules of ettiquette in the Empire, but Luther had often shown a deftness with its rules and traditions that made Cass and others dizzy. He was no one's fool. By self-deprecating in welcome, he had essentially forced Godash to either pay a compliment to his hosts, or at the very least to declare his intentions plainly and without disdain.

Godash cleared his throat. "I am here to see your child, who is suspected to have been born a mutation," he said evenly. "And I have eyes yet well enough to see that this is so."

"Pray, lordship, may I inquire who brought this suspicion to thy call of ear," asked Luther. Once again, using subservient language, but with a direct question of purpose.

"The information was brought to my office by a clerk in the registration office," said Godash, deftly ducking giving a name.

"A clerk, you say? Not a member of medical staff?" Godash flinched; Luther had maneuvered him into a tight corner. If he confirmed it wasn't medical staff who raised an alarm, he would be admitting to accepting an uneducated word. If he denied it, he would be asked if he was confused or erroneous. In either event, Godash was going to come away with egg on his face if he wasn't careful.

"No, not medical staff, Mr. Entem. However," he said, raising one finger to stay any word from Luther's mouth, "the clerk in question has, over the course of twelve years, registered just over four-hundred new hatchlings through the Fourth Magistrate's Office. As such, I found his alarm deserving of note, given his degree of experience dealing with newborns and infants."

Luther's hands bunched into fists, then loosened. Cass thought it a shame, as she'd been sure her husband had this gnarled old koopa on the ropes. "I see," said Luther. "So, have you come to make your own determination?"

"I had, yes. But a single look is all I require to say with authority that yours is a child that is mutated. His records will reflect this judgment," said Godash firmly.

"What does that mean for him, for his future," Cass blurted aloud, holding Bowser closer. The infant koopa glowered at Godash, as if he had murder on his young mind.

"Well, that depends entirely on you, his parents," said Godash, his haughty air and smug grin returning in full force. "You can either give your child to the raising of the Sisters of Mercy in the Sixth Magistrate, or you may uproot and move with him to Seventh Magistrate, where you shall live among the collective of this Empire's least-desirable citizens. If you choose this second option, you will be seen as less than goombas, barely above the note or rank of beasts," he said with obvious scorn. "Now, if you give the boy to the Sisters, he may remain in the caste and honor of goombas, while you retain your respective rights, privileges and ranking in our great empire."

Luther nodded, folding his arms over his chest. "I have already made my decision."

"Ah," said Godash. He put one scaley hand on Luther's shoulder, as if for comfort. "It's all right, Mr. Entem. It really is for the best." A less thoughtful, more impulsive man might have batted that hand away. Instead, Luther took one half-step back, letting it slide away on its own.

"Cass, we begin packing, now," he said, a thick cable of steel in his voice. "This family will not be broken." Godash narrowed his eyes, mouth curling into a snarl. "If his Lordship will leave us in peace, we will prepare for departure."

"You are being foolish, Mr. Entem," Godash said with a hiss. "Green tribe you may be, but at least you are koopas! Don't throw that away over what is clearly an abomination!" Luther sucked air between bared teeth, but made no move against the blue tribe Magistrate. Cass turned away with Bowser, shuffling off into the tiny bedroom and shutting the door.

"See here, now," said Luther in a low, quiet rumble. "We are now the bottom caste, the lowest of the low, so not much is expected of us. But hear me well, Lord Godash. I am deep in my work at Prince Vorek's castle. I shall require leave until we reestablish in Seventh Magistrate. I expect my pay shall decrease with my social rank.

"I do not care about that," Luther said, straightening his stance. "What I care about is this; you will never again darken my doorstep. You may say what you will about my decision today, but you will never again come near me or mine. And I make you this solemn vow," he said, stepping close to Godash, who visibly flinched. "Our son shall rise above his station. I will do everything in my power as his father to guarantee that some day, somehow, he shall tower over you, and he will know what choice you forced on his parents when he was not even a year old."

Godash crept back from Luther toward the hut's entry door, stopping with his hand on the knob. He looked back, eyebrow raised. "Once I'm through this door, the decision is final. You have one last chance to beg for my mercy." Luther said nothing, grabbing a heavy wool bag from under the sink. "Very well. You have one day to vacate. Turiya will remain outside to assure your compliance."

He was gone then, and Cass brought Bowser out of the bedroom when the front door shut. Tears marked her cheeks, and Luther went to her, embracing his wife and son tightly. Bowser grabbed hold of his arm, looked up, and pressed his forehead against his father's shoulder.

They would never return to the Fourth Magistrate.


	5. Chapter 5- Firsts

For three months the Entem family lived in a pair of tents Luther purchased at the market in Dregg, the murky, run-down village where they fetched up after moving to the Seventh Magistrate. The Seventh was reserved for the Empire's lowliest, largely because it was dominated by bogland, where little could be grown.

Another reason was that it bordered the Mushroom Kingdom to the east. In the event of another skirmish or war, the first victims on Gora Empire's side would be its cast-offs.

Cassandra had modified the tents, making of them one large living space divided into two rooms. They maintained a cooking pit out front, though Cass often had to stay with the pot or pan in which she was cooking, to fend off those who would filch what food they could afford. She and Luther both lost a good deal of weight in those first months.

Yet not so Bowser, for they gave of their own meager portions to feed the boy. One day, when he was only eight months old, he turned his nose up from his plate, pointing at his parents' dishes. Cassandra and Luther exchanged a worried glance and put their food on his plate, but Bowser reacted angrily, smashing his high chair tray. He dug his claws into the food, splitting it into three even portions.

Cass's first thought was, _Gannon promised he would be smart. All along I have seen he was more clever than others his age, but this defies logic. Is this the power of that warlock's magic?_ She scraped her share onto her plate, Luther's onto his, and the family began eating.

And for a while, things went well. Luther and Cass began opening up to their neighbors up and down the dirt road, and their combined charm made them fast friends among their fellow castoffs. As they approached Bowser's first birthday, he'd become a darling among the koopas and goombas in the community.

Yet through it all, he remained silent, and this was beginning to worry Cassandra. The Seventh Magistrate had only one medical clinic, two days north of Dregg by bucka wagon drawn by tamed beetle baileys. Two weeks out from his birthday, Cass told Luther to stay and work overtime at the castle while she took their son to see a doctor. He boarded a work train, as he had since moving, and bade his wife and child farewell.

The two day trek went well, as Po Kanet, a goomba woman who lived in the village and who enjoyed the Entems, took the trip with Cass and Bowser. She and Cass played card games while Bowser looked through his books, many of them secondhand pieces offered as gifts from the community.

Neither of his parents realized he could read the words for himself. They assumed he was just enjoying the pictures.

Everything went swiftly at the clinic when they finally arrived on the second day. The doctor who saw Bowser, himself a green tribe koopa, informed Cass that he was growing at an accelerated rate, but that nothing beyond his obvious mutations seemed out of the ordinary. He recommended filing down the boy's shell spikes soon, though, as they were quickly shaping up.

Upon their return home two days later, Luther greeted them at the opening to their tent home with open arms. Bowser rambled up to him, and as he embraced his father, spoke his first word.

"Dad," he said. Luther Entem had been a practical and stoic man for most of his life, but at the sound of his son's voice, he wept openly and without shame.

Bowser's first birthday had been four nights past when Cass woke to hear him groaning in his makeshift bed. He was a month beyond his crib, too heavy for it to safely support him. Cass didn't mind; the Boreto goomba family needed it anyhow.

When Cass lit a lamp and crouched beside her son, she gasped at what she found. He was clutching the sides of his head, face pinched in agony as his horns stretched before her eyes. "They hurt, mom," he croaked. "They hurt bad!" She cradled his head in her lap, her big boy, until the horns ceased expanding and he drifted back to sleep.

For the first time since he'd hatched, Cassandra wondered if he would truly be okay.

On a balmy summer morning some four months later, Magistrate Godash approached the castle of one of the princes, Nurit, in the back of an advanced kart, one entirely covered and wrapped in metal panels with clear glass to see out of. His driver and chief escort, Turiya, had been even more taciturn of late than in his years previous. He had served Godas for almost nine years now, and never had the hulking Hammer Brother seemed so, detached.

The kart rumbled over the moat via a drawbridge, which normally would have caused Godash to jounce and rattle about in a standard kart. Over the bridge they pulled into a wide courtyard fronted by a kart parking area, which Turiya entered at speed. He slammed into a parking space and turned the key, stopping the kart cold. Turiya climbed out and opened Godash's door for him.

"Come along, then, Turiya," Godash said, waggling one finger to indicate the Hammer Brother should follow.

"Gonna wait with the kart," Turiya rumbled, eyes looking off into the middle distance at the outer castle wall. Godash waited for an explanation, but when a minute passed without one, he snorted angrily an stomped off toward the castle keep proper. He adjusted his voluminous robes and headed inside.

In the entry foyer of the prince's castle, Godash saw half a dozen green and four red tribe koopas, all dressed in contruction gear, working at tearing open one wall off to the left. Godash saw some of the new security cameras in the upper corners of the chamber, which had been turned into a workspace. He approved the cautionary measure.

A rare purple shell koopa in a matching robe, embroidered with stars, wearing a pointed cap with caballistic symbols and carrying a silver wand approached Godash from the entryway to the west hallway. Godash smelled the man before he drew near, a combination of dust from old books, and a cloying scent of sweat. He smiled broadly at the Magistrate with broken and rotted teeth.

"Aha! Aha! Who is this, who indeed," said the purple tribe.

"Hail, wizard," said Godash politely. "I am Magistrate Godash, of the Fourth. I am come to visit the prince, who I understand desires many changes to his home here."

"Oh, indeed he does, indeed he does," said the wizard koopa, nodding his head up and down violently. "Many rooms, and traps! Oh, he wants lots and lots of traps he does! Thwomps, he loves thwomps, and chomps too! Kalamazoo!" The purple robed koopa raised one foot, shaking it to and fro as he hopped in place, slowly rotating in a circle. Godash had plenty of experience dealing with the purples, and generally speaking, the crazier they were, the more powerful. Magic did strange things to koopas, and all purple tribes were born for an affinity for its study.

_Beware this lunatic, Gode. He might blink wrong and turn you into a bat. _"Tell the prince for me that I'd like to recommend a worker for this project," said Godash respectfully. The wizard finished his rotation, then folded his hands into the sleeves of his robe and floated away, off down the west wing hallway. Godash felt his left cheek twitch, irritated by the necessity of waiting and the curious looks of the workmen across the room. He wheeled on them, a scowl rampaging across his face. "Have you not enough banal labors to keep thyselves occupied, fools?" The workmen turned back to their tear-down without reply.

Soon a tall, broad-shouldered koopa in fine silk tunics and a blue shell strode into the chamber, and immediately the workmen all knelt down, pressing their foreheads to the floor. Godash began to do the same, but Prince Nurit was not one, apparently, to stand on ceremony.

"Come now, lads, and old dad, kneel not to me," he said, his voice smooth and velvety. It was a voice made for inspiring with honeyed words, and it made Godash cringe to think it belonged to a young man who clearly did not appreciate the importance of rank and appearances. He supposed, after a moment's thought, that his reaction might be partially born from being called 'old dad', an honorific used mostly for the elderly and sages in the empire.

"You spare my knees, and receive my thanks and blessings, your highness," said Godash with a smie. _You also make me seem a doddering old man in front of these men of lower rank, you fluff-headed clod!_ He let nothing of his inner turmoil show outwardly, however. "I had heard tell of new works on your keep, and thought to come and offer some recommendations, sire."

"Ah! Most welcome news this is," said Nurit, signaling for Godash to follow him. "Let us discuss such matters in my office, that we can be out of these good men's way."

"Of course, sire." Godash followed, throwing one last evil glare at the workmen, who all flinched away from him. A minute later, they entered Nurit's first floor office, a resplendent study complete with various tomes on shelves lining the walls, a mahogany desk large enough to park a kart on, and a fireplace with armchair and end table nearby. Blueprints lay scattered about on the floor, though a second glance showed Godash that there was an order to their arrangement. "Hmm. Well, sire, all looks to be mapped out well. The entrances take unwelcomed guests to the dungeon, yes?"

"Yes, of course. My father made certain each ingress was enchanted long ago to ensure us of that. But therein lies my problem, Magistrate Godash. See this one, here?"

"Yes, what of it?"

"That's my castle dungeon," said Prince Nurit with a sigh. "I just kept putting it off. Now, there's nothing in there, and tensions rise between my father and the Mushroom King."

"I see," said Godash with a nod. "You worry about intruders."

"I worry about assassins or kidnappers, yes," the prince admitted. "I know I am my father's least favorite son. That's why he gave me this castle, so close to the border between our lands. If he should lose a son, best the one he doesn't care for so much."

"Pish-tosh and nonsense, sire," Godash said, flapping one hand in dismissal. _Can you blame him? I'd have had you 'fall ill' of a 'mysterious sickness' a long time ago, you sniveling whelp!_ "The Emperor is aware of your keen wit and capacity for diplomacy, my prince! That, sire, is why yours is the first face the Mushroom King will ever see when relations fall short. He is crafty in his choice." Nurik raised one eyebrow at Godash, clearly curious.

"Do you say so," he asked.

"I do, sire."

"Hmm. Well, I'm sure you're probably right, Godash." Prince Nurit began shuffling the main castle blueprints together into a pile. "You're far more versed than I in political thinking. Now, this workman you would recommend, is he capable?"

"Quite capable, m'lord," said Godash. "The only downfall is, well, he's a local, sire, of the lowest caste. If that is a problem, I understand."

"Now it is thee who speaks nonsense, Magistrate," said Nurit with a grin. "I would have this man's name."

"His name, sire, is Luther Entem."

Bowser spotted the Elite Guardsmen coming from down the lane, parked in the front patch with his books. His mother and father now knew he could read, and he often sat to one side of their multi-tent home to enjoy his reading under the sun. His reasons for being outside so early on that day were two-fold. Firstly, at just seventeen months of age, he already stood as tall as his mother's stomach, a height most koopas didn't reach until two years. Much as their makeshift home had expanded, it was still cramped inside.

Secondly, his father had been pulled off of his duty working the Great Road almost a week earlier, and he'd been in a foul mood since. Luther was a man of words when he wanted to be, or needed to be, but when his heart turned heavy and dark, he became oppressive to be around. He didn't yell, or throw things, or start arguments, no, think it not. But he gave off a pervasive air of near-violence mixed with ennui, an infectious cloud of negativity which put all around him in a similar state.

The Elite Guardsmen rode in a simple bucka, drawn by large, pink bird-like creatures with bullet-shaped snouts. _Birdos, _Bowser thought. _Odd, seeing them here._ Bowser had read in one of his guides to empirial wildlife that birdos tended to promulgate mostly in the western realms of the country. He marked his place in his book and rose to his feet, straightening out as the bucka pulled to a halt before the tent.

The Guardsmen were both yellow tribe, and Bowser felt his mouth forming a natural smile against his will. Meechum had managed to find his family just a month before, spending some time playing chase with young Bowser before heading back to his home in Kurn, in the Fifth Magistrate. He'd promised to visit whenever he could.

Bowser forced the smile down and nodded up at the heavily armored koopas as they dismounted the wagon. One of them stepped up a foot away, glaring down at the child. "Boy? Are you the son of Luther and Cassandra Entem?"

"I am," Bowser said.

"And you live, er, here?" The question came out sounding awkward or embarrassed as the Guardsman pointed to the tent structure.

"Yes, we do. Pray tell, why?" The Guardsmen exchanged a glance, and the one clearly in charge knelt down so he and Bowser were eye-level with one another.

"Tell me, son, how old are thee? Do you ken 'how old'?"

"I do ken, aye," said Bowser. "I am seventeen months of age."

"Surely not," said the Guardsman, pulling back, eyes wide. "To be already so spoken in the olden way, and not still wearing clouts? And the sheer size of you, t'would seem you're at least a full year older."

"I don't lie," Bowser snapped testily. He shook his head, breathed deep. "My apologies. I have a temper. I don't like not being believed."

"It's all right, young one," said the Guardsman. "I have here a missive from Prince Nurik. Can you deliver it to your father within?" The yellow tribe handed down an envelope to Bowser, who silently nodded and took it to the tent, his heart racing.

In the tent's main chamber, Luther sat at the small round table, nursing a cup of coffee. Bowser strode over to him and offered the sealed envelope. "Royal Guardsman outside gave it to me to give you." Luther made a long, impressed face, tore the seal, and withdrew a folded letter from within.

As his eyes scanned the paper, his face slowly worked itself into first a smile, then outright excitement, elation. By the time he finished, Luther dropped the paper on the table and dashed outside, shouting, "Yes! By all the gods, tell him yes!" Cassandra came out of their bedroom add-on into the main room, rubbing her eyes, yawning.

"What's your father hollering about, Bowser," she asked dreamily.

"I don't know," said Bowser. "But he sounds happy." Luther came rushing back inside, sweeping Cass up in his arms and crowing, spinning her around in a circle. She laughed and hugged him back, asking what had him so elated.

Prince Nurik had sent a personal contract offer for Luther to come onboard as a crew foreman for renovations to his castle on the Seventh Magistrate's eastern border. The envelope included a salary chit, payable through a Treasury office one town south of them, in the amount of his first month's pay.

It was the first time Luther had ever been invited to be a foreman. It was also the first time a chit had been written to him for more than one hundred coins.

"It's only half an hour away by kart, and they're letting me borrow one for free until the contract is done," Luther added as they sat round the table, everybody brimming with glee. "Even better, there's no time estimate on how long the job will take!"

"Oh, honey, you see," said Cass, clutching his hands on the tabletop. "The gods have finally smiled on us again, for the first time since they gave us our son." It seemed there was good cause for celebration, and Bowser basked in his parents' joy.

It was also the completion of Godash's first step in teaching the Entems the cost of going against him.


	6. Chapter 6- Fall

Benjamin Godash had been a politician for over thirty years on the day Bowser hatched. He had begun his career with the kind of earnestness and doe-eyed optimism many younger men have when they first win an elected post. But the cruel realities of being a member of the Empire's hierarchy beat that out of him quickly, dragging that innocence into a dark alley to be stabbed and spit on with all the vitriol of the hateful and deceitful.

He'd developed his own code of ethics as a result, and chief among the rules of governance he lived by was this- if the other guy shows his hand, destroy him. This was more figurative than literal, but he'd applied both versions in his time. It went hand-in-hand with his philosophy of what politics boiled down to, a mantra he'd talked about with some of his closest advisors.

"First come smiles, then pretty lies. Last comes death, of ideas, or bodies, or both," he said to these men and women, who all seemed to take his words in stride. He knew they mostly feared him after that, and that was well enough.

Yet in all of his years dealing with the idle threats of lesser men, of people who did not understand their place in the Empire, none had disturbed him so much as Luther Entem. Entem represented the most dangerous kind of prole, one well-read and well-spoken enough to stir up genuine trouble without getting easily distracted. He was a lightning rod, and Godash feared that eventually, he would have to face a bolt directed from him.

But everything seemed to go as it should when the family was forced to march to the Seventh Magistrate territory. They wound up in Dregg, which he found fitting, and Godash focused his attentions elsewhere.

That had been well enough, until one of his spies in the Seventh reported that Entem had earned a spot working on the Great Road, a brick roadway spanning the whole of the Empire from north to souh. It had been under construction on and off for twenty years at that point, and the men in charge of it had always sought out the best builders to work on it.

Godash couldn't just send a request to have Entem fired, as the Great Road was outside of his control. But if the koopas in charge of it thought that a better job were lined up for one of their workmen, they wouldn't object. Thus, when he discovered the need for a crew foreman for Prince Nurik's dungeon renovation, he sent off a letter right away.

Getting Nurik to agree to it had been simple enough. Only a few details remained for the second step in dealing with Luther Entem. Godash made his way to Prince Nurik's once more, where the wheel of fate would be given yet another turn.

Luther hugged his wife and son, then bade them fare well for the day as he headed off for his first day on the job. Bowser waved until he could no longer see the back of the kart, then headed off down the street to play with some of his friends.

All of them, actually, and they only numbered three. Moxy and Trim, two green tribe koopas aged three and four, and Doko, a mutant goomba with human-like arms, served as the only social circle he knew beyond his parents. The youngest of the bunch, Bowser naturally felt protected and safe in their midst.

This despite tha fact that only Trim was taller than him, while Moxy clocked in at eye-level. Bowser found his friends down by a claptrap board shack in which Doko and his parents scratched out a meager existence, sitting in a loose semi-circle to the outer shack wall. Doko was shaking something in his hand, and he tossed two ruby red dice, letting them rebound off of the shack and land on a long piece of cardboard they'd laid out. It came up double-threes.

"I got six," said Doko, mouth pulling right in thought. "I'll keep it. Hey, Bowser!" He smiled at the young koopa, two oversized canines jutting up over his lip from his lower gum. "We're playing Three Roll High. You want in?"

"Um, sure," said Bowser timidly. He spoke quite fine most of the time, but for some reason, he always got nervous when playing a new game with his fellows. He couldn't say why, but he found a curious fear taking residence in his heart when in such circumstances. That fear had a doormat which read, 'They're Going to Laugh When You Lose'.

Doko handed him the dice, which were warm and slightly damp to the touch. "Okay, what you do is shake these a few times, then toss 'em against the wall so they bounce back an' roll on the cardboard. You count the dots, add 'em up, and say what you got. The highest roll wins the round. Everybody gets three rolls if they want, but once you set your roll, your turn's over. Did you get all that, bud?"

Bowser rolled the dice around in his large green hand. "Yes, I got it." He shook the dice as his friends chanted and jabbered at him, hooting and cajoling until he tossed the dice. They rebounded off the shack and landed just so in the center of the cardboard.

Snake eyes.

"Um, I'm assuming that's no good," Bowser said. He rolled again, came up with an eight total. "What's the highest right now," he asked.

"New round since you joined, so you," said Moxy. Bowser said he would 'lock in', and handed the dice off to Moxy. On and on this went, with Doko's mother listening in through a narrow gap between two boards to make sure the kids were safe. For the time being, the kids were all right.

Godash walked up and down the loading platform, seeking out the crates that would be sent to Prince Nurik's castle keep in the coming days. When he located them, he handed the warehouse foreman a sack filled with heavy coins and waved the little red shell koopa away. The foreman didn't as questions; in the Empire, questions usually just led down dark paths with festive names like Backstab Alley or Throat Cut Lane. Just for giggles, one might even be detoured down Poison in Your Lunch Street.

Godash carefully read the label sheets on the first few boxes, cursing himself for not keeping the foreman around long enough to locate the crates with the thwomps in them. He didn't have forever to do what needed doing there. At best, his bribe would buy him half the work shift, and there were scores of crates to check.

An idea struck him a minute later, and he quickly zipped off to the foreman's office, checking his desk top for any kind of inventory list. Locating it on a clipboard, he headed back out to the loading dock and hunted his way through to the needed crates.

Setting the clipboard aside and grabbing a crowbar, Godash pried open the first one he came to and set the tool aside. The thwomp within rapidly blinked, looking at him and, as came naturally to them, scowled. "Ho, what's this? Are we at the castle yet? Who are you, koopa?"

"My name is not your concern, thwomp," said Godash amiably enough. "Your purpose in life is to crush things, yes?"

"You know that. Everybody knows that," said the thwomp. "What do you want with me and my purpose?"

"Listen carefully, and I will tell you," said Godash.

Luther pulled next to the tent, grinning like a fool. He'd been working on Prince Nurik's dungeon for two months now, and most of the floor and ceiling remodeling was now done. His son was playing a pick-up game of soccer with his little crew of friends on the far side of the home, a sight which warmed Luther's heart. His boy had made great strides in socializing, and would probably be considered ready for schooling around the same time as his fellows.

Luther only worried about his rate of growth. Bowser now stood almost to Cass's chest height, taller than even his friend Trim now. The spikes on his shell needed weekly filing down, a task Bowser now took care of himself. His independence was a touch disheartening for Luther, but the koopa builder couldn't help feeling a little proud of the boy as well. Not yet two, and he'd already developed into a very bright kid.

_A bright kid with a hell of a temper,_ he thought, flashing back in his mind to two weeks earlier. One of the other local boys, a yellow tribe whose family had fallen on troubled times, came and tried to snatch away the soccer ball Bowser and his friends played with routinely. Bowser had reacted by beating that boy into a swollen, bruise-riddled pulp. He might have done worse if Doko's mother hadn't heard the commotion and come on the run to investigate.

For the moment, though, Luther just watched as Bowser blocked another goal shot and laughed joyfully in the sun. He headed into the tent and breathed deep of good stew being cooked in a new add-on tent stitched to the home, one with an open canvas drop-wall. Cassandra had asked if he wanted to buy a more permanent home, but Luther had insisted they remain somewhat frugal. "Better to have that coin in case of a emergency," he'd said, and she agreed.

He headed out to the cook room and embraced his wife from behind. "Hey, honey," he said, enjoying the feel of her scaley palms on the backs of his hands as she returned the hug without turning.

"Dear," she said. "I'm making extra. Moxy and Trim's parents are joining us."

"What about Doko and his folks," Luther asked, dipping his finger in the pot to taste test. He hummed with cullinary delight.

"No, Doko and his parents have to go to their monthly clinic appointment. They'll be gone a couple of days."

"Hmm, shame. They're good folks. I'll go wash up," Luther said, heading to yet another tent extension, this one firmly secured on all sides but the interior entrance. He could hear Bowser and his friends goofing around through the canvas wall as he soaked in the tub, and smiled to himself. _These are the moments I work for, _he thought.

Ben Godash checked in via his plant in the work crews periodically, not wanting to spook the poor man, and not wanting him to let on to his coworkers that anything was amiss. However, it had been an agonizing wait before finally the trap layout was set to start, and he wanted to know exactly when the thwomps were going up.

Godash's spy was a red koopa named Bryce Holson, a slightly dimwitted fellow who had been stripped of his caste rank by trying to court the daughter of his local magistrate. Godash promised Holson a partial pardon and sponsorship to have his caste elevated to goomba-level if he kept tabs for him and said nothing about their partnership to anyone, ever.

Now the red shell sat at his small table, sipping old whiskey while Godash sat across from him in heavy black traveling robes and cloak, the hood up over his head, concealing his face from the nose up in shadow. "You sent me a message via P-wing letter. I assume it's something important?"

"Yup," said Bryce. He was one of the few men of his age who almost never lapsed into the 'old speech', which had recently gone out of favor among most citizens of the younger generation. "Thwomps start going in tomorrow."

"Speak true?" Bryce nodded, sipped his drink. "That is excellent, my friend. Now, what is your role in the work tomorrow?"

"Nothing," said Bryce flatly. "I don't intend to be there. I'm going to get magnificently drunk, and beg off of work in the morning when the train shows up." Godash stiffened visibly. "What?"

"Mr. Holson, don't you think that will look mildly suspicious, should something happen tomorrow? Say, an accident?"

"Nope," said Bryce with a grin. He threw back his head and downed the rest of his whiskey, then slowly poured himself more from the bottle on the table. "See, I'm not that clever, not like you, sir, but I know enough to know when I might need an alibi down the road. So, since we started the renovation, I've begged off twice for hangovers. This'll just be the push needed for them to label me an alcoholic, not a murderer."

"Who said anything about murder," Godash asked faux-innocently.

"Oh, come off it, sir. I know you intend to have someone offed. I just don't know who, and would rather not. Now, if you'll excuse me," Byrce said, raising his glass in a toast. "To labels!" He tossed back the shot and grimaced, pouring another.

Godash saw himself out of the ramshackle little cottage and to his borrowed kart, Turiya at the wheel as usual. The Hammer Brother drove away slowly, until they were clear of the outskirts, then pelted for the nearby Administrative Warp Zone. Nobody but Bryce Holson would ever suspect they'd even been there.

At least, not for some time.

Bowser was sitting quietly in the main room, reading, his mother knitting a new blanket, when the roar of a heavy-duty kart came down the road the following day around noon. The noise didn't bother them, until the brakes engaged with a squeal just outside of their home. Bowser looked up at his mom, one eyebrow raised. "Mother? Are we expecting company?"

Cass was up off of the couch just as a pair of yellow tribe Elite Guardsmen came quietly into the main tent, their hands clasped together before them, heads bent down slightly. Bowser saw his mother's mouth go slack, her knitting needles falling out of hands suddenly unable to hold onto them.

"Ma'am, son," said the taller, broader guard softly. "There's been an accident."

Bowser stood beside his mother, letting her press him tight against her side as she wept at the graveside. Almost everybody in the village of Dregg stood in attendance at the funeral, as well as many of Luther's coworkers and subordinates. Meechum stood at Bowser's left side, one hand kept firmly on his shoulder for comfort. He appreciated the effort, but its effect was dulled by the lone thought, _My dad is dead._

Bowser had been in too deep a state of shock and despair to really grasp all of the details until a few years later. It boiled down to a malfunctioning thwomp, which had erroneously identified Luther as an intruder and, well, had then done what thwomps do. The thwomp had been carried off and tossed into a lava pit by enraged koopa workers.

Still numb to most of the world beyond his thoughts, Bowser barely registered the arrival of Prince Nurik to the proceedings. He didn't quite grasp, either, the offer the nobleman made to allow he and his mother to live at the castle, since the accident had occurred on his property. Cassandra accepted weakly, and only after initially refusing.  
All Bowser could clearly remember about the week that followed was being told his closest friends and their families could also come stay at the castle with he and his mother. This had cheered him some, but otherwise he locked down, shutting all input out, living on a kind of auto-pilot.

It would be a long time before he came out of it.


	7. Chapter 7- A Bright Lad

On the morning of Bowser's ninth birthday, a little over seven years after his father passed away, skirmishers from the Gora Empire and Mushroom Kingdom clashed in the unclaimed territory along the northeastern corner of the Empire, drawing fearful reactions from much of the castle staff. It was among the first things Bowser heard about as he made his way groggily down to the dining hall for breakfast.

Trim came hustling down the hall until he caught up to the oversized koopa. "Hey, Bowser! Did you hear? Fighting in Tagal Swamps."

"I heard one of the chambermaids discussing it with Ms. Laypa," Bowser said. He now towered over all his long-time friends, standing an even five-foot-nine-inches in height, three inches taller than his mother and one taller than Meechum, who was the Prince's Captain o' the Guard.

"I heard the fight broke out over a new kind of magic plant," said Trim. "They grow almost all over the swamp, these bushes, and contact with a leaf plucked from the bush gives you a tail and raccoon ears, and the tail lets you fly short distances, almost like a P-wing."

"Tagal Swamps will never be claimed, though. It's too close to the three major nations' corner terrain," said Bowser. "It would take Hyrule all of a minute to put troops there and end the whole discussion."

"What makes you say that?"

"Governance class. You're in the same class as me," Bowser said with a wry grin at his friend. "Don't you pay any attention?" Trim just shrugged and giggled.

"No, I just use it as art practice time," said Trim. "Hey, how's your mom doing?"

"Still not well, but better," Bowser said with a sigh. "She sees the Prince's physician today, hopefully to find out what's made her so sick. She was able to walk herself down to the first floor study this morning, so that's a good sign." Cassandra had fallen ill quite suddenly one evening a week earlier, collapsing on the dining hall floor after dessert. The kitchens had been thoroughly inspected by Meechum for any sign of poison or foul play, but nothing turned up. Willow and Rompus, Nurik's newest paratroopa transfers, scoured the grounds and found no suspicious persons.

"I hope it's nothing serious. Your mom's good people," said Trim.

"What does that even mean," Bowser asked. "I don't recall hearing such diction in our verbal classes." He shook his head, leading Trim into the dining hall. The long table was already filling with various platters and bowls for breakfast, and two of the scullery maids, humans trying to make a living in the Gora Empire, scurried in with plates and cutlery. "I miss the lessons we were taking on the old speech."

"No, you miss the essays of King Tanakatis," Moxy said, coming around the doorway corner to join them as they sat down. "The Prince won't be joining us this morning. Just heard it from Douard," he said, hooking a thumb bck at the doorway.

"Why not," Bowser asked.

"An envoy from Mushroom Kingdom is coming in a couple of hours, and he's got to make preparations. The skirmishers from our side are technically under the Prince's command." Moxy looked down at the table as he took his seat, tapping his foot nervously. "Prince Tangarine will be heading the group from Mushroom Kingdom."

Bowser flinched involuntarily. The boys had all heard of Prince Tangarine, heir to the Musroom Kingdom's throne. He had a reputation among koopas as a bloodthirsty, warmongering brute. His only soft spot, it was said, was his little sister, Princess Peach. Whatever she wanted, he'd get it or do it for her.

"Wait a minute," said Bowser, recalling a conversation he'd overheard days earlier. "I thought Prince Tangarine was north in Hyrule on a diplomatic excursion."

"He was," said Douard, a wizened old red tribe koopa with a long white beard and matching robes. He served as the tutor for several of the boys' classes, a venerable old man who had once taught the Emperor's own sons, including Nurik. He joined the boys, signaling for the scullery maids to clear Nurik's place out of respect for his absence. "I am in charge of you boys until the meeting begins. At that point, Ms. Laypa will take over the duties of seeing to you boys." He nodded his head at one of the bowls of eggs. "Moxy, pass the eggs please?" He scooped some onto his plate, then handed the bowl to Moxy. "During that time, you boys are expected to be on your very best behavior. Princess Peach is with her brother, and as she is a child of your age, she may not be in the audience chambers. She will be with you."

Moxy, Doko and Trim all groaned as one, rolling their eyes. Bowser showed no reaction whatsoever, though, instead watching Douard closely. He noticed an extra tremor in the elderly koopa's hands as he sipped coffee, heard the slightly accelerated breathing brought on by nervousness. Serious business was afoot, and Douard didn't expect things to turn out well for the eastern region of the Gora Empire.

Bowser made no comment, however, instead focusing his mental efforts on how best to take advantage of the time when Ms. Laypa would be in charge of the gang. She couldn't keep up with all of them, especially if there were another child to mind after.

He mentally formulated, eating with the precise amount of fatigue outwardly shown to avoid his thoughts being interrupted.

Bowser could hear the hustle and bustle echoing through the hallways shortly after Douard left the boys in the music room in the east wing. Two sets of heavy boot steps approached, and Ms. Laypa slipped in through a door attaching the music room to a restroom. Two heavily armored guards, toadstool men with their mushroom cap-shaped heads covered with chain coiffs, stepped into the chamber. Toadstools often struck Bowser as curious folk in koopa lore, described as soft, pudgy, and lazy people with a real knack for growing magical plants.

These men looked neither soft nor lazy. Stout, yes, but the six inches of height Bowser had on them each could be quickly negated by cutting him off at the knees with the battle axes on their hips.

The one on the left cleared his throat. "Announcing the princess of Mushroom Kingdom, Peach!" And so around the doorway stepped primly a little girl, slender and waifish, in a flowing, frilly pink dress and gem-studded tiara, looking wide-eyed and terrified at the koopas before her.

_She's never dealt directly with our kind, _Bowser thought. _This must be frightening for her. _The large koopa boy tried to offer a soft smile, keeping his lips pressed together to hide his sharp teeth. The princess curtsied like a proper lady and inclined her head. "How do you all do," she asked, her voice high, reedy.

Bowser took a step forward and bowed slightly. "I am Bowser Entem, son of Cassandra and Luther Entem." He stepped back and nodded to Moxy, who picked up his cue.

"I am Moxy Drote, son of Jin and Kinsa Drote." He turned and nodded to Trim.

"I am Trim Drote, also son of Jin and Kinsa Drote." Last came Doko, the only goomba of their gang.

"I am Doko Pekia, goomba. We do not name our parents in greetings," he said awkwardly. Peach seemed hesitant to approach, but the guards made no move to comfort or reassure her, instead stepping out into the hallway. Bowser quickly sidestepped over to Ms. Laypa.

"Could we maybe all go down to the game room? She might like it better there." Ms. Laypa smiled but shook her head.

"She's a princess, dearie. Royalty doesn't indulge so," she said.

"She's a child no older than us," Bowser reasoned in a half-whisper. Ms. Laypa quirked one eyebrow at him.

"I sometimes forget how smart you are, lad. Very well." Louder, addressing everyone, she said, "Come along, then. Let's go to the games room and show our guest some fun! Now, you boys," she said, stepping into the hallway and crossing her arms. "May I assure you Princess Peach is in good hands for the few minutes it'll take you to fetch biscuits and tea for these youngsters?" The toadstools looked to each other, shrugged, and marched off to find the kitchens, or at least directions. Ms. Laypa guided the boys and Peach out into the corridor, Bowser hanging back a little to walk alongside the human girl.

"Are you scared to be here," he asked quietly.

"Um, a little, yes," she confessed, running one hand nervously through her long blonde hair. "Bowser, you said?" He nodded. "You look different than the others. The other koopas, I mean."

"I'm a mutant," he replied. "Do'ee ken mutant?"

"I ken it, aye," she said with a giggle, which she covered with one white-gloved hand. "You know the old speech?"

"Yes, though it grows out of favor quickly as time passes."

"'Time is a face on the water'," said Peach. Bowser blinked rapidly, looked down at her with a bright grin.

"That's a lovely phrase. Is it your own?"

"No, it's some bit of doggerel one of my instructors taught me," Peach replied. The group ahead was ducking into the games room. They followed suit, and Ms. Laypa played a couple of games with them until the princess's guards arrived with a tray laden with cookies and one with tea pot and cups with saucers.

Bowser took one of the larger treats and his cup of tea over to a reading bench recessed on one wall, windows showing the inner castle courtyard and village just beyond the walls. He sat there quietly looking out until Peach scooted up onto the bench near him.

"It's a lovely view," she said after a minute.

"Hmm. It is." Bowser looked at her, curiosity writ plain on his brutish features. "You come to speak with me on your own. Are you not afraid of me?"

"No, I am not," said Peach. She sipped her tea quietly. "There is no reason to be." She watched people moving about in the courtyard below. "Do you worry about war between our countries?" Bowser just nodded. "I do too. My history tutor says there have been periodic conflicts between our nations for centuries. This would just be another one."

"A notch in the belt of the man-whore known as Strife," Bowser commented. "Wedded to Sorrow, father of graveyards. 'Ware that poxy reaper of life, for his shadow stretches long, and his touch poisons everything." Princess Peach reached out one hand and patted his foot gently.

"You are very poetic. I had not expected such for a koopa, much less one so young."

"I am told my mind as well as my body are aged beyond their meager count of years," said Bowser. "Master Douard is to thank for much of my command of speech and written word. He is my favorite instructor." Bowser looked away from the window, met Peach's eyes. "Unfortunately, he also knows how bad my temper can get."

"I saw your frustration during 'Chariots'," said Peach, referring to one of the games they'd played. "You seemed to cover well enough."

"Moxy is one of my closest friends," said Bowser. "For them, I am able to keep my rage contained far better than for outsiders." Bowser noted the quick flash of concern in Peach's eyes. "You needn't worry. You have been unexpectedly pleasant company, Peach."

"Thank you," she said with a smile. "You have been as well." The pair soon returned to the others and began a game of Monopoly, a game said to have been brought from a strange land beyond the realms of Famicom. Elsewhere in the castle, another game was being played, one with far higher stakes.

And it was not going well for any of the players involved.

Bowser watched the wagons leaving the courtyard later that day, as the orange-streaked sky faded toward true evening. He stood next to Douard in the inner barbican archway, waving farewell to Princess Peach as the tail coach passed out through the tunnel leading out of the castle grounds.

"Ms. Laypa tells me your mother would be proud of how well you handled the company of the princess," said Douard side-mouth.

"Really? I didn't notice her paying that much attention to us," Bowser replied.

"You're a bright lad, Bowser, but you are still but a boy. That reading bench in the games room opens up, you know."

"Yes, I know that. That's where the young pirana plants are kept until they are mature enough to plant in the outer perimeter, before they need sunlight."

"And you may recall that Ms. Layps can speak with pirana plants," said Douard. Bowser realized after a few seconds what his instructor was implying, gasped and looked down at the stone of the steps he stood upon. "Don't fret, my boy. You did a marvelous thing, being friendly as you were. That alone may have helped our situation with Prince Tangarine."

Bowser found himself sincerely hoping so. He would hate to imagine that Peach and he would have to not speak again because of an aggressive brother.


	8. Chapter 8- Cold

Impirial Advisor Benjamin Godash sat in one of the lavish studies on the Heavenly Palace's ground floor, sipping at a snifter of finely aged scotch and reviewing documents brought to his desk over the course of several days. The one he was turning to now had been much-awaited, sent by his spy in Prince Nurik's employ.

It had been only two years after his successful elimination of Luther Entem when Godash was nominated for a vacancy in the Emperor's advisory cabinet. Using information he had gathered on all of the other advisors over the course of many years, he swiftly gained their support through blackmail, and the Emperor welcomed him aboard in record time.

He was now the third-ranked advisor, a title which afforded him luxury and privileges beyond most men's wildest ambitions. Yet he never forgot the last words Luther Entem spoke to him, promising that some day, his mutant offspring would undo him.

Reading the report brought Godash's mood down some. His spy had not been able to complete the task of killing Cassandra Entem, who had recovered from her poisoning against the odds. Nobody at the prince's estate suspected anything; his man on the inside had been careful to delay the on-staff doctor from seeing her until the toxin had run its course in full and passed out of her system.

Godash swigged his scotch and grimaced, wholly unsatisfied. Yet he was only through a fraction of the report, and he had to know what else was going on, particularly given the meeting between Prince Nurik and Prince Tangerine of Mushroom Kingdom.

His spy had overheard Ms. Laypa, the headmistress of staff, relaying what some pirana plants had told her regarding a pleasant and 'beyond-their-age' conversation between Princess Peach and a boy living in the castle, one Bowser Entem. Godash read through the transcript of the dialogue, and found himself stunned by the young mutant's eloquence. He'd seen recent photos of Bowser, and had written him off as a probable brute with little intelligence. He seemed to be quite wrong on that score.

But the meeting between Nurik and Tangerine had not gone well at all, almost devolving into swordplay. Prince Tangerine's reputation among koopas was well-deserved, as he frequently threatened Nurik and his advisors with open warfare along the national border.

Godash set the report aside after reading its conclusion. "And thus a Cold War begins," he said to himself. "How best to take advantage of this?" His spy could risk no move yet; the prince's captain o'the guard, Edward Meechum, was said to be an extremely astute man. Yet, that could be played to his advantage, Godash realized.

Swiftly he was on his feet, seeking out a messenger. Like any good politician, Benjamin Godash had favors he could now call in.

Cassandra Entem smiled and shook her head, as ever confounded yet amused by her son's behavior. It was a Saturday, the start of the weekend, and instead of running around the castle's courtyard or hallways or the royal preserve just south of the castle with his friends, Bowser managed to get his mother to take him to the Office of Properties located in the village proper. He now sat with her in the waiting room, a pad of paper and pencils held eagerly in his lap.

Cass had been surprised by Bowser's request to the clerk. He wanted to see his father Luther's registered blueprints under any category, so that he could make himself copies. Luther Entem had been a brilliant builder, and his designs could be seen everywhere in the Empire. Unfortunately, as a green tribe, he often lost out on the honor of being credited with them in the broader public. Yet even designs posted as the work of others required original master copies be filed on record, and these always bore the original builders' names.

When the clerk finally returned, a mouser in slacks and button shirt not much different from Dr. Tish, he held about a dozen rolled up tubes in his arms. "Here we go, son," said the clerk, gently setting them all down. "This is all I could find."

"It's plenty, thank you," said Bowser greatfully. "Help me open one up, mom?" Together they removed and unrolled the first one on a long table in an unused conference room down the hall, pinning it down with knickknacks from around the room. Bowser saw before him the design blueprints for a new kind of kart, one that ran entirely on Power Mushroom oil instead of Fire Flower extracts. He reproduced his father's notes and a basic copy of the design in his notepad.

Several more blueprints later, he and his mother came across one that gave them both pause as they looked at it. Before them now lay the dungeon blueprint for Prince Nurik's castle, as it had been originally designed. Cass put one arm around her boy's shoulders, mindful of his shell spikes.

"Oh Bowser, I'm sorry," she said wistfully. "I know you still miss your father."

"I know you do too, mom," he said softly. "It isn't as bad as it used to be for me. That doesn't seem right."

"Well, dear, you only knew him a couple of years," said Cass, sniffling. "It's natural that you'll get over his loss more quickly than me." Bowser nodded, his eyes slowly roaming over the lines, curves, and angles his father had so meticulously mapped out. This had been a project to be proud of, Bowser knew that at first glance. He didn't understand all of the math involved in putting together this layout, but he knew instinctively that his father's work was inspired.

After a minute of observation, he also spotted a glaring error, or what he assumed must have been one. He saw no notes written at the spot that stood out to him, so he had to assume his father simply had forgotten to mark the change on his blueprint.

Cass knew her son well enough to notice something was bothering him. "Bowser? What's the matter, sweetheart?"

"It's not a big deal, mom," Bowser said nonchalantly. "Dad must've just missed it."

"Missed what?" Now she was looking hard at the blueprint.

"Well, I remember you telling me that the workmen didn't have to carry the thwomp that killed dad but a few yards to a bridge over a lava pit to throw it in," Bowser said. "But there's no location slot marked out for a thwomp here," he said, pointing to the precise location on the dungeon blueprint where his father had been crushed to death.

Cass looked at the blueprint, carefully studying it. "Well, it's entirely possible that your father just did a whole re-draw, and the amended version is in another tube." Bowser hadn't thought about that, so they continued looking through all of the other blueprints. When they found no other dungeon layouts, Bowser rolled the dungeon map up and tucked it in its tube. He and his mother shared a knowing look, one filled with a combination of dread and anger.

"Bowser," said Cassandra, her voice dry, husked out. "What are you thinking?"

"The same thing you are, mom. Father was murdered." And she couldn't deny that she was thinking the same thing.

Bowser sat on his bed later that evening, the tube on the covers behind him. His mother had been willing to pay the four coin required to have a duplicate made for him of the dungeon his father had designed, and now that he had it, he couldn't bring himself to look at it again.

The other three boys had sensed his mood and left him be, and now they each snored softly in the darkened dormitory-style bedroom they all shared, cozy in their four poster beds. They were his brothers all, though they didn't share parents. Parentage, he often thought, does not determine the guidelines of who one's brothers and sisters are. Friendship is a bond that forms by different forces, ones that pay no mind to lineage and bloodline. A man's social rank at birth does not of necessity determine who he will befriend, and thank the gods for that; were it not so, the world would be a poorer place.

The soft sussurations of his friends gave Bowser a small measure of peace, though not close to enough to drown out his internal fury. His mind drifted afloat in a tempest on an unnamed boat, the waters of thoughtless anger and violence crashing and spraying over the deck. Yet he kept the ship true, on course, with a burst of willpower and clenching his hands so hard in his lap that the claws poked bloody droplets from his palms.

_Who wanted you dead, father? _He dare not ask the question aloud. Bright as he was, even Bowser had his superstitious beliefs, and one was that if he asked a question aloud of a shade or spirit, it would come forth to answer. He couldn't handle that if it were to happen, so he kept his own council and tried to lay down to catch some rest.

In the darkness of the shared bedroom, Bowser steeled himself to the idea that he may have to do some awful things in the name of vengeance.

Godash spotted the bright green pipe jutting from the ground marked with a black 'X' in spray paint, and quickly climbed up it, lowering himself through the warp pipe. With an ear-splitting 'WHOOP-WHOOP-WHOOP' he dropped a few inches from the outlet onto a floating brick platform, to which was attached a rope ladder. He sighed, descending carefully toward the bottom of a plain chamber of blue brick.

Seated at a folding card table with an oil lamp burning and a game of solitaire laid out was a toadstool man in a fine beige suit and red silk tie. His face was that of an average toadstool, except for a long cut scar from his left ear across to his nose. A briefcase sat upright by his left leg, and as Godash approached, he paused in laying down a card, checking his watch.

"You're ten minutes late," said the toadstool. "My time is valuable."

"I know this, Ardin," said Godash. He seated himself across from the man he called Ardin, a cold, businessman's smile creasing his mouth, forming age lines along his cheeks. "Which is why I'm cashing in my favor." The toadstool dropped down his card and sagged a little, sighed.

"I was hoping you'd forgotten," he muttered.

"Goodness no, Ardin. Ben Godash doesn't forget who owes him favors or who he owes them to. Now, you aware of the current political climate along the eastern borderlands, yes?"

"A Cold War, yes," said Ardin. "Why?"

"It's about to heat up."

The following day saw Moxy, Doko and Trim once again taking to the royal preserve to play in the woods, while Bowser made his way all the way to the quartermaster's building at the west end of the castle grounds. It wasn't any kind of trek, really, but none of the young ones had any business there unless they wanted practice swords and shields to play games outdoors.

Prince Nurik's quartermaster was a middle-aged human fellow named Kilbourne, a fiery red-headed, red-bearded ogre of a man whose speech was inflected such that he sometimes became difficult to understand. Bowser had only spoken with him a few times since he and his mother were invited to live in the castle with Prince Nurik, but he'd found the burly man kind-hearted despite his brutish appearance.

As Bowser entered the warehouse-like building, he spotted Kilbourne seated at his desk, squeezed in like a giant in a child's furniture. He cleared his throat to announce himself, bringing Kilbourne's attention round from his morning beans and toast.

"Ach, ye wee scrobbit, why 'ee come knock me up wi' business 'fore me day rolls on, eh," asked Kilbourne. Bowser found himself mentally translating before he could respond: _Hey, you little bastard, why're you waking me up to business before my work day has begun?_

"I've come in search of some old records," Bowser said evenly. "Specifically, shipping orders from the dungeon renovation, when the trap materials arrived." Kilbourne took a bite of toast and chuckled, easing back in his chair, which protested this action with a 'screeee!'.

"Ye're very specific, an 'ats ups, lad. Back room, blue cabinets, second drawer down," the big man replied. "Whole works uz a crap shoot few year back. Then Holson come in, squares it all in a jiff!"

"I'm sorry, who's Holson?"

"Oh, red tribe fellah, goomba caste fer a few years. Fell on 'ard love wi' the bottle after what happened ter yer pa, blamed 'isself fer not bein' at work that day to watch out fer Luther." Kilbourne shoveled some beans into his mouth, the sauce splattering into his beard. He chewed a few times, slowly, seeming to contemplate what more he should tell Bowser. "He lives in the village attached to this'n 'ere castle, son, if that helps."

"It does," said Bowser coldly. "Thank you, sir." As the oversized koopa left the warehouse, Kilbourne thought, _that boy shall grow up to be a menace. Good thing he likes me._

Ardin rode his horse along at measured pace, his costume protecting him from an unexpected breeze at his back. The trek north and west had been quite chilly, but now that he was disguised and riding with the wind out of the north at his back, he felt much more comfortable.

When Godash had given him his instructions, Ardin had at first balked. The task Godash wanted done in the long run was simple enough to accomplish, but the setup and preparation would be gruelling, putting him in a hunker-down position for a little over a month. In that time, Godash warned him, there would be a lot of panic around the borderlands.

The koopa politician hadn't revealed much of his grand scheme, but Ardin suspected that the end results would be catastrophic in scope. Godash didn't do anything small; he had, after all, sent his own unit of specially selected skirmishers into the Tagal Swamps in order to attack a unit of toadstool soldiers. He had initiated hostilities, but no one would trace it back to him. Ardin only knew because the koopa had told him as much.

He knew it wasn't a bluff.

The village became faintly visible some six miles out. Ardin brought his mount to a halt, taking a moment to check his gear. When he was satisfied that all was as it should be, he continued on. The prosthetic fangs and ears had become irritating, but Ardin was a consummate professional. He would wait until he had a secure room to change in before addressing the problem. Even out in the flatlands, one never knew who might be watching.

His caution proved useful as several lakitus floated past overhead on their nimbus clouds. They didn't appear to be armed, but he recognized patrol patterns they wove in the sky. He knew they had marked him, and what they thought they saw- a hobgoblin come to Gora Empire from Hyrule Kingdom, likely driven out by the King's Outer Guard. This would not be an uncommon sight with all of the trouble being caused there by a shadowy warlock named Gannondorf.

His disguise would hold up to even close scrutiny, enhanced by the application of the same mysterious oil that allowed Tanooki Suits to take the form of a stone statue. If anyone other than Ardin himself tried to remove or tug at any part of the costume, it would behave and react like his own skin.

He expected guards to approach before reaching the village, but there came none. He spotted them as he dismounted to walk his beast into the town proper, two koopas with slightly oblong red shells. _That's right, mutants. The Seventh is all bottom caste except for Prince Nurik and his attendants._ Ardin led his mount to a stables along the village main street, and paid for a month's care with sixty coin, readily given. When the stablemaster stared wide-eyed at the money, Ardin quickly remembered Gora Empire's financial state.

He quickly moved off down street to a boarding house, where he paid for a room for just one week. He would renew in a week's time, but people would talk about a hobgoblin blowing into town and dropping that kind of coin if he'd paid for the month outright at the dumpy little house. The stables weren't such a big surprise, however, not for a resident of Hyrule. Even hobgolins there took care of their horses.

The boarding house caretaker, called 'hens' by some, gave him a suspicious once-over before she brought him the register to sign in on. A yellow shell woman, she too was mutated, a third eye blinking rapidly at him from her throat. Ardin signed 'James Maybrick' in the register, and paid for his lodging.

The room he was shown to could have driven moderately happy men to thoughts of suicide, if given time and nowhere to go. The walls stood sentinel in half-rotted wallpaper covering dark wood panelling. It smelled like someone had set fire to the room, doused the flames, and opened the lone window and door to let everything air dry, no attempt at remodeling following. The atmosphere clung oily and damp upon the skin, but he made no comment, only lugged his bags to the foot of the military-style cot and deposited them roughly.

Ardin turned to face the hen and grunted at her wordlessly. She shut the door on him, leaving the disguised toadstool in quiet solitude. He took a seat at the room's only bit of furniture aside from the bed, a small writing desk with a vanity mirror mounted at the back. In one of the drawers he discovered a steno pad missing several pages, some pens, and what he learned with a single whiff was a flask containing a few dribbles of some potent drink.

A look at the ceiling above revealed a pair of crossing support beams, one with a narrow faded strip. _That's where the rope went, _he thought dismally. _Tremendous. _Ardin started unpacking his costume-associated clothes after locking the door, opening the narrow closet, which held a rickety dresser at its back. He had everything put away and hung up, and still had two drawers to spare in the dresser. His powders, weapons and alchemical mixing equipment went into these, covered with a few shirts to keep the casual eye from seeing anything should he be away from the room.

He now had only to wait. One of the few items remaining in his bag came out, and Ardin sat down on his rented bed, opening the book and settling in. He had been looking forward to reading this novel, and decided the time had come to indulge.

The book was called 'The Shadows Followed', a fiction title described as 'showing an assassin's average month'. He found the notion perfectly fitting.


	9. Chapter 9- Savagery

Cassandra took one look at Bowser as he strode into their quarters within the castle, and decided that she would be better off not questioning her son at the moment. He had blood and bruises on his hands, flecks of crimson splashed up on his cheeks, and the dire, frozen glare in his eyes of a man who will kill with little provocation. At nine years of age, no boy should be thought of as a man in any circumstances, but Bowser's size and the signs of violence upon him forced the label in her mind.

It had been a week since Bowser's talk with the quartermaster, and much had transpired outside of the castle's walls, events which already had Cassandra on edge. Prince Tangarine of Mushroom Kingdom, against his father the King's recommendation, had moved troops under his command into the Tagal Swaps. He'd then moved a heavy infantry battalion from the eastern edge of his personally controlled territory to the western border, only a mile from the start of Gora Empire lands.

The Cold War between nations was beginning to warm in a dangerous way.

Cassandra worried that Bowser's size could be used as an excuse to press him into military service far too young, should open war break out. He could easily pass as fifteen or sixteen, eligible age for conscription in the Empire. Even Prince Nurik wouldn't be able to stop it from happening, as he had no command of Impirial Army affairs.

Now her only son shuffled slowly toward their private washroom, leaving the door open. Cass didn't approach, instead only listening as he ran water in the sink. She soon heard the slick squish-splosh of soap being lathered and rinsed away, lathered and rinsed away. There came more, accompanied by a loose-lipped sigh as she imagined Bowser washing his blunt snout and cheeks of blood. Five minutes passed washing up, five of the longest minutes of Cassandra's life. In those five minutes, she found her mind playing over every horrible scenario imaginable.

When finally the water stopped, there was silence for a moment, then the scirl of a towel rod spinning. Bowser came back into the den of their personal quarters wiping his face with a faded brown towel, sitting in the armchair at an angle to the couch upon which Cass was seated.

"I know who wanted father dead, mother," Bowser said flatly, eyes narrowed, his piercing gaze aimed straight ahead, not meeting Cass's eyes. "It took some, convincing, to get the information, but now I know."

"By the gods, Bowser, what did you do," Cass rasped, unable to contain her dread any longer.

"I went to see a man in the village, a red tribe named Holson. He is a drunkard, of the sort who becomes belligerent when crippled by drink. I had to persuade him to tell me who arranged for him to not be at work when father was crushed. I persuaded him with my fists, as you can tell."

Cass looked at his hands, which were swollen and bruised from meting out a beating. "Yes, I can see this. Does he yet live?"

"Yes, he does, though I was sorely tempted to put a fireball through his scrofulous head," Bowser snarled. "The name he ultimately gave me shook me to my core, mother."

"Why? Who did he name?"

"Mother, you've told me before that when I was but a babe, someone came and gave you and father an ultimatum. You could give me over to the orphanage run by the Sisters of Mercy and retain your caste rank, perhaps slip only one rank down. Or you could keep me, and be dropped to the lowest possible caste, which you did. The man who gave you this mandate was the Magistrate of the Fourth, Benjamin Godash, who is now the Third Chair Advisor to the Emperor. Mother, he is the man who insured father's demise," Bowser concluded, finally looking Cass in the eyes.

She saw there in his gaze a quiet rage, one that could rise up and torch everything to the ground around him. "Son," she said, "what do you intend to do with this knowledge?"

"For now?" She watched as the rigidity of his body eased, his glare softened. "Nothing. His rank and title would make anything I can try to do ineffective. However, that doesn't mean I can't start putting events in motion." Cassandra marveled at her boy, despite her fear for him. Koopas were considered adults at fifteen, and here he was, six years shy of that mark, speaking, thinking and acting like a cunning koopa of easily thrice his own age. She said to him then the only thing she could think to.

"Bowser?" He cocked one eyebrow at her. "You are going to become a great man some day."

Ardin kept abreast of events mostly by frequenting the tavern just down the road and reading the paper delivered daily or listening to customers. Nerves were frayed all around, and the Emperor was sending three battalions towards Tegal Swamps, two infantry and one cavalry, mounted on yoshis.

Ardin also heard customers speaking in hushed tones about a new kind of sentient iron ore being mined to the north in Hyrule by servants of the warlock Gannondorf. These were but rumors, but Ardin made note of this information anyhow. Information, be it true or false, was a commodity.

Today he would take another step toward achieving his goal here, if the cards landed right. If they should not, he had a workable Plan B, but that involved far more risk than he usually liked. It would be touch and go if things came to that.

The assassin also began hearing rumors in the afternoon, an hour before his appointment, that one of the boys living in the Prince's castle had beaten a man in town nearly to death. He kept this rumor in mind, because soon enough he might have a chance to see those himself.

He had to hand it to Godash, as the wily goat had known precisely how Prince Nurik would respond to rising tensions along his borders. The entire civilian staff at the castle and all of its guest residents were going to receive combat training. He had sent a request to the capital, and the moment Godash heard of the request, he sent for one James Maybrick, an outcast hobgoblin warrior from Hyrule, to go and perform the task of trainer.

Ardin had a list of flaws in the caslte and attached village's defenses, outlined by Godash well in advance. It seemed the Advisor had left nothing, or very, very little, to chance. The only real danger was that Nurik might not take a hobgoblin into his trust. Hence the need for a Plan B.

Ardin took one last drink of water and headed off, aiming himself like a bullet at the castle.

Douard took a deep breath, looking at the boys and girls in their seats in his classroom. Between servants' children and the Prince's permanent guests, he instructed ten children, seven boys and three girls. This number had fluctuated up and down for years, but for six years he's had four mainstays- Bowser, Doko, Moxy and Trim. Of them, Bowser had not only been the biggest, but also the brightest.

He had also been the quickest to anger or become frustrated. Douard didn't care one bit for what he was about to announce. He raised his arms high to still what little whispered conversation there was among is pupils, and lowered them slowly when silence fell.

"My students," said the wizened old koopa, his expression and tone stern. "Our Empire stands on the brink of war." He watched as terror frothed up into the faces of all but two of his students, Bowser and Doko, the mutants. "Because of our proximity to the potential front lines of conflict, His Majesty the Prince has seen fit to bring a combat instructor aboard to teach you all how to defend yourselves. This instructor is presently being shown around the castle grounds, though he apparently already came prepared with a list of notable shortcomings in our defenses, both here and in the village below.

"This man, Mister James Maybrick, is a hobgoblin, a creature born in Hyrule. His ways will seem strange to you, but I ask that you obey his instructions as best you can once he begins lessons. Now, are there any questions before we begin the afternoon session?" Nobody spoke, nobody even twitched. "Very well, then." And so Douard turned about and began writing out mathematical questions on the board, all the while trying not to think about the eager look in Bowser's eyes at the mention of a combat instructor.

Bowser kicked the ball over to Doko, then settled back into position as goal keeper and sighed. He'd missed afternoon games like this, and he couldn't deny himself all pleasures in pursuit of revenge. It simply wouldn't do, either, to abandon the other kids when they'd been mostly scared stiff by Douard's announcement a few hours earlier.

_War, _he thought. _Like a curse it lays its clammy hand upon our shoulders, sidling up like an old friend you just can't trust. Dismount your steed, and let us look you in the eye, bastard. _Lost in his thoughts, he almost didn't dive in time to punch away a hard driving kick, keeping the score at nil.

"Good reflexes," someone called out from behind the goal. Bowser saw that his fellows had all stopped playing, staring at whoever was behind him. He turned, and found a burly, reddish-orange skinned creature standing just beyond the far sideline painted on the grass. Dressed in traveler's gear and loose leather armor, the hobgoblin began trudging onto the field. "You are quick, young one," said the hobgoblin.

"Mr. Maybrick, then," Bowser called in reply as the newcomer neared.

"I am he, aye," said Maybrick, halting ten yards distant, pudgy hands on his hips. "Let's have a look at all of you, then," he said, signaling for the others to gather round.

"Molly and Hanna aren't with us," Bowser said.

"Already squared them up inside," said Maybrick with a snort. "Typical females for their kind, soft and unworthy. Now, let's see," he said, surveying the koopas and goomba before him. "Line up, all in a row, buggas," Maybrick barked, and the line formed around Bowser, who didn't budge an inch. Maybrick folded his hands behind his back, pacing up and down the line several times. "Right, then. You," he said, pointing to the far right end of the line. "Name."

"Narl Malk," said one of the koopas in Bowser's class. His father was the castle's head chef.

"Next," said Maybrick, working his way down the line. He got to Bowser and said, "Well, big fellah, I'm guessing they call you 'Tank' or 'Butch' or some other nickname."

"They do not," replied the oversized koopa youth. "I am Bowser Entem, son of Luther and Cassandra."

"You already know something of how to fight?"

"Just some roughneck basics, nothing formally trained," Bowser replied evenly, respectful but cold, detached. "I always thought Mr. Meechum might be instructing us in combat some day."

"Your Prince's Captain o' the Guard must make the soldiery and external defenses his first priority," Maybrick retorted quickly, not to be caught off balance. "Next." And on he went, until all were counted and named. When they were finished with introductions, Maybrick gave them a narrow-eyed glare. "Starting tomorrow, I will begin teaching you some standard combat techniques, many of them based on your stature. Bowser, you will require a unique regimen, one more closely associated with the style of my people, due to your build. Try to keep up."

And so he wheeled about and left, heading not for the main keep, but the gates back out to the village road. Everyone started heading back to their positions on the field, but Moxy and Bowser lingered a moment. Moxy leaned toward Bowser and asked, "Whatcha thinkin', big guy?"

"I'm thinking I don't trust him," Bowser replied.

Edward Meechum had been connected to young Bowser all his life in one way or another. He'd brought him to his parents as a new hatchling, visited him often both in the Fourth and Seventh Magistrate, and arranged to become a member of the Prince's staff so he could be close to Bowser. He believed with his whole heart that he was responsible for Bowser, particularly given what his patrol partner had tried to do when they first found him.

When the yellow tribe paratroopa had heard of the coming combat instructor, he'd been anxious about the presence of a hobgoblin in the castle. Meeting with Maybrick personally hadn't assuaged any of his nervousness either, quite the opposite. He didn't trust Maybrick further than he could throw the castle keep.

Using one of his few secrets, an artifact he'd once taken from a fallen Mushroom Kingdom spy, Meechum had transported himself to where he stood on the day after Maybrick introduced himself to the youths in the castle. He had official clearance to use the registered Warp Zones, but that would leave a trail. No, for now, the Warp Whistle was his best bet.

Meechum drew his quarterstaff from his back sling and stood ready, having arrived in an uninhabited clearing in the middle of a dank woodland. He heard rustling movement in the underbrush, felt the air grow still with tension.  
When the rabbits rushed past him, he relaxed a little, but remained alert, slipping into thick foliage himself as silently as a shadow. In movies and books he'd indulged in (movies rarely, for they were expensive), this was what was referred to as the 'fatal false alarm', wherein the protagonist let their guard down after seeing he or she had been apprehensive for no good reason.

_And that's when the killer or beast strikes,_ Meechum thought. And sure enough, leaping onto the spot where he'd been less than a minute before came a hulking hobgoblin, an orangish-brown-skinned specimen who looked big enough to halt a kart in its tracks.

The big fellow looked around, seeming confused. When he had his attention elsewhere, Meechum sprinted out and jabbed his staff end hard into the big man's Achilles', unprotected by his studded leather armor jerkin. The hobgoblin howled and fell over, dropping the axe he'd been carrying, curling into a ball to clutch at his injury.

Meechum rounded the big man and pressed his staff end to his throat, big eyes bulging up at him. "Hail, and ill met, hob," he said conversationally. "I apologize for ambushing you, but I suspect you were hoping to do the same to me."

Rather than answer with words, the hobgobling swiftly rolled away from the staff and tried to spring from a half-crouched position, hands torqued into splayed grappling postures. This failed spectacularly. With its leg still injured, the hobgoblin managed to make three-quarters of the distance between them, landing in a panting heap before a mighty crack echoed from the quarterstaff striking perfectly along his jaw, knocking him down with a grunt.

"We can be civilized about this," said Meechum evenly, not even heavy of breath. "I seek only information, and offer apologies if I've trespassed on your clan's hunting grounds. Will you hear me and speak as men?" The hobgoblin managed to stagger to its feet, lower tusks gleaming.

Once more it offered no verbal reply, instead lunging forward to swing a wild haymaker punch at Meechum. The koopa deftly ducked the attack, whipping his foot up over his back to push-kick the bigger fellow in the chest. When Meechum straightened, he used his momentum to swung his staff up in a punishing uppercut, knocking the hobgoblin to the ground yet again. The big fellow groaned weakly, rolling flat onto his back.

Meechum came around and stood over his head, looking down into the piggly face with an upside-down countenance of nigh-Buddhist peace and calm. "I apologize for hurting you, but I really don't wish you harm or insult. I'm just looking for information."

"Okay," the hobgoblin croaked, sucking breath. "I will tell what I can."

"Good," said Meechum, coming around to help the big hob sit up. "I usually detest such displays of violence, but you left me little choice."

"I know," said the hob. "You talk good, with honey voice and words. But you fight like savage."

"Thank you," said Meechum. "My name is Edward Meechum, and I need to know about one of your exiles."


	10. Chapter 10- Secrets

For two weeks Ardin had worked the kids at the castle like military recruits, carefully selecting defense techniques to teach them that were known to have all kinds of flaws. He didn't tell them that, of course, no. But Bowser was a special case, due to his size and keen wit. He was instructed separately and shown effective styles and forms. Ardin had promised to do a job here for Godash, but the wily old turtle hadn't said anything about how to handle the big boy.

The disguised toadstool man was enjoying a private bath in his rented quarters, scrubbing nearly a week's worth of grime since he'd last fully removed his disguise. Rinsing off felt sublime, and he stood clean and naked as the day he was born after toweling off, just enjoying his native skin for a minute.

Yet on he went with the rituals of painting and sticking, pulling on his diguise as he had before. His thoughts drifted as he prepared to Meechum, Prince Nurik's Captain o'the Guard. The yellow tribe koopa had been unusually amiable toward him for the last few days, and had been hanging around during his one-on-one training sessions with Bowser, watching from the spectator seats in the training room, offering Bowser the occasional tip. Not that the boy needed much help; he had within him a quiet fury that made him a quick learner of the combative arts.

Set against the right foe, Bowser could kill plenty of grown men without a weapon in hand.

Yet the koopa youth kept it mostly under control, a veneer of icy detachment keeping him from exploding in random violence. The boy spent a good deal of his free time now at the castle smithy's forge, working on some kind of machine of his own design. He wouldn't tell Ardin what it was, though he suspected the boy had shared this secret with Meechum.

Things were not what they seemed with that kid, and Ardin knew it.

For the time being, however, he could only count the days until the time came to strike. He sincerely hoped that when it did, Bowser Entem wasn't close at hand.

Meechum directed the koopa workmen hauling the wagon back around to the open-air forge in back of the smithy's, the sentient iron ore glimmering in the pre-dawn light. He clapped young Bowser on the shoulder, the boy yawning widely and sipping his juice. "I hope you realize that there's another visit coming tomorrow from Prince Tangerine, son," the yellow paratroopa half-whispered. "Whatever works you do this day must be kept hidden from he and his retinue."

"Is the Prince really going to sue for peace," Bowser asked.

"Yes. It's what he believes is best, though the Emperor is furious with him for doing so. There are troops in the Tegal Swamps right now, though nobody will claim them."

"They belong to Godash," Bowser said plainly, as if this were common knowledge. Meechum flinched; he could sense that Bowser was dead certain of what he'd said. "He wants a war. The only thing I don't understand is, why? What does he get out of it?" Meechum watched as Bowser used a pair of tongs to remove a clump of the sentient iron from the back of the wagon and hold it out over the forge flames. The metal hummed, as if it found the heat pleasant.

"I cannot say for certain, young master, and frankly, no 9-year-old boy should be thinking about such matters, no matter how far beyond his years he seems," the Captain o'the Guard replied. "Any ro', is that the mold you were talking about," he asked, pointing to an oblong, hinged metal casing set by the forge.

"It is." Bowser brought the heated metal out of the fire and set it in a heat-absorbing sluice, which would feed down a chute and into the mold's opening on top. "These will fire from my cannons. I've completed four of them thus far. If they get approved by His Majesty the Prince, the weapons factory will produce a hundred next month. But these parts require a personal touch."

"Why are you doing this, Bowser," Meechum asked. It was a question he'd been holding back for weeks now. Bowser looked up at him calmly and sighed.

"Because as much as I want personal revenge, I have to take my country's safety and capabilities to heart. If war should break out, these will give us an edge. I only hope war doesn't come, somehow. The Princess at least seems nice, after all. Will she be with the retinue again?"

"Yes," said Meechum. "Though I suspect it will be the last time she sets foot in the Empire. I have heard it said that the Mushroom King is furious with Tangerine for having her with him in such tense circumstances."

"Hmm. I'll have to make as much conversation as possible, then. Thank you, Meechum." Bowser turned his attention back to his work, watching as the melted iron ran down into the mold, steepling his fingers. Meechum stuck around long enough for Bowser to set the mold in a cold bath, cooling the metal within so it would hold its form.

They soon heard something moving within the mold, and Bowser cracked it open, revealing an oblong lump of metal with two angry eyes and tiny, pudgy little fists cocked against its sides. The young koopa picked it up and held it out, marveling at his creation. "Meechum," said Bowser in a hushed rasp, "I want you to meet Bullet Bill."

Ben Godash felt his eye twitching as he regarded the calendar. The day was coming quickly, and it would be such a glorious one-two combination that he found himself giddier than a small child waiting for Christmas morning. There developed a spring in his step, and he found himself ever capable of making cutting retorts during dialogue with his senior advisors. The Emperor surely had to have taken notice.

And when the hobgoblin trainer had been sent to Prince Nurik, why, there seemed to have been a mistake made in the reports, and Second Advisor Limkin was able to take the credit for this wise move. The Emperor knew nothing of the mistake, and Limkin had been swift in claiming credit, rubbing Godash's nose in it in private. As far as anybody knew, Limkin was a wise man with foresight.

_And you'll be laughing right up until the Emperor orders you hanged, _Godash thought, pulling on his robes of office. _And once you're gone, well, it's just Grennet and I, and he has no capacity for the politics of warfare. Soon enough, I alone shall have the Emperor's ear!_

And it would all be accomplished with a singular act, one which would not only get the ball rolling, but which would kill two birds with one stone. Godash felt invincible, godly, infallible, and he let those good vibes flow out from him. Of course, he'd never let on why he felt so good, no. Doing that might see _him _at the gallows.

He had only but to wait a few more days.

Bowser hopped over the sweep kick and whipped his tail around, knocking Maybrick aside. It was the first solid blow he'd landed since they began sparring a few days earlier, and the force of that strike made him feel wonderful.

The follow-up reflexive block felt even better. The hobgoblin lunged upright with an uppercut, but even as he began moving, Bowser turned around and angled his hard spiked shell by rolling back onto his rear end. The result was a thud, followed by a grunt and the trickle-spatter of blood.

When Bowser turned around, he could see Maybrick holding his injured hand close. He appeared to have cut open his knuckles and the back of his hand down to his wrist on one of Bowser's spikes. The koopa youth felt a momentary fear, but quickly dismissed it. After all, injuries happened in practice.

"I'll fetch the healer," Bowser said, taking to heel. He asked several staff where the healer, a green koopa named Velis, could be found. By the time he found the fellow in the castle's library and made his way back to the training room, Maybrick was gone. Somehow, he'd managed to leave no blood trail behind him.

Bowser chalked this up to another mystery about James Maybrick, adding to the list Meechum had begun. The Captain o'the Guard had secretly gone to Hyrule, and discovered no trace of Maybrick among the hobgoblin tribes. Neither had the goblins or orcs of the kingdom known of the man, and when Meechum managed to track down the warlock Gannondorf, that frightening worthy had merely laughed at his inquiries and used a spell to cast Meechum all the way back to the border.

Bowser knew Meechum would never steer him wrong or lie to him, especially about outsiders. This hobgoblin had secrets, and Bowser didn't think any of them would turn out to be good for those within the castle. He loved the Prince for his honesty and his peaceful, trusting nature, but for everyone's sake, he hoped Nurik hadn't been a fool to let the Hyrule native into his castle.

That evening, after once more discussing the coming meeting between Prince Nurik and Prince Tangerine with his fellow Advisors, Godash ambled happily to his apartment within the Heavenly Palace, nodding to servants as he passed. All he'd planned for would soon begin.

He could have contented himself to instruct the assassin to kill Cassandra Entem and thus orphan the mutant child of Luther, sure, but that would have been a terrible waste of a key asset. No, what he had in mind now was far more satisfying, and aimed directly at his ultimate goal of becoming second in the Empire only to its ruler, the Emperor himself.

Sharing tribe with the Emperor, unlike his senior Advisors, would also give him more sway when making decrees in the Emperor's name. The caste system established so long ago worked perfectly for his benefit. _It has always been within my grasp. I merely need to slap Destiny around a little, but it eventually will see things my way. _

Yes, no lack of confidence there. When he entered his den, Godash threw the four locks on his front door into place and secured the breakage trap he maintained for extra protection. Limkin had been especially venomous with him at the Advisors' nightly meeting, and Godash had thrown a few choice barbs at him in return. It simply wouldn't do to be awakened by one of Limkin's thugs for a beating to remind him of his place. Hence the axe on its pulley.

Godash removed his outermost robe and draped it over the back of a chair, shrugging his shoulders, rotating his arms widely. He wasn't a young koopa anymore, or even a middle-aged one if he was honest with himself. Yet his devotion to the pursuit of power and influence had brought him here, and soon it would put him beside the throne.

"But first, there is war to be declared," he said to himself, heading for his private kitchen.


	11. Chapter 11- Blood Will Flow

Bowser sat alone in the library the following morning, his friends having opted to head outside to play soccer in order to remain out of the way during the official visit. He had a copy of a historical text on the Mushroom Kingdom in his lap as the doors creaked open behind him. He looked over his shoulder and spied Princess Peach being ushered inside by the same guards who'd been with her during her first visit.

"Ah," said Bowser, setting the book aside and approaching her. He dropped into a formal bow fifteen yards away. "Princess Peach, I pray thee have good welcome," he said in his best formal tone.

"And I thank you most heartily for this, and grant same," she replied with a smile, her voice still girlish and dainty at the same time as she curtsied. "You've gotten just a little larger since last we met," she said brightly.

"Yes, another growth spurt," said Bowser. "My mother says it's fortunate we're guests of the Prince, else she'd ill be able to afford to keep me fed." Peach giggled at this self-aimed gib, and Bowser offered his hand, palm up. She came forth and set her hand in his, and he guided her to the companion armchair to his own. "I've been reading up some on your country's history. It seems it's one of the eldest in all of Famicom, along with Hyrule."

"That's right," said Peach. "The entire continent used to just be the three kingdoms, Mushroom, Hyrule and Koopa. Then, of course, there were the free lands in the south and east, which ultimately became Vasto and Prieka. Why did your nation become an empire instead of remaining a kingdom, anyhow?"

Bowser knew the answer as given to his class by Douard, but Meechum had once given him a far more sophisticated and plausible response. "Emperor Harin's great-great-grandfather, Ilpus Tozard, was in line to succeed his father as King many years ago. Yet he wished to concede the throne to another. As he had no children of his own, and no siblings, it was decreed that a new ruler was needed.

"Ilpus had a cousin, Barkot Harin, who was as bloodthirsty a koopa as had ever been seen. He gathered soldiers to himself and stormed the castle, slaying his King the uncle and declaring himself Emperor. He named our nation Gora, which was his given middle name at the time." Bowser sighed. "It isn't a kingdom in name, but these lands have been controlled by the same family for over twenty generations."

Peach was quiet for a long minute before she timidly said, "I have no idea how long my family has held the throne. Is that sort of thing important to you, Bowser?"

"Not really," said Bowser. "Though I will admit that sometimes, leaders need to be replaced, revolution realized." Peach raised an eyebrow at him. "You know, rebellion?"

"I don't understand either of those words," she said.

"Really?" Bowser sat flabbergasted by this gap in her knowledge. "Well, a revolution is when large numbers of people gather together to kick the current leaders out and put in new ones, or use a whole different system of rule."

"Why would anyone want to do that," Peach asked, honestly perplexed. "Whoever's in charge is in charge, those are the rules. My brother taught me that." Bowser shook his head, rubbing his temples.

"Listen, sometimes the people in charge do the wrong things," Bowser said patiently. "Or they keep all the coins for themselves, instead of distributing them to the common people. Or they start wars and try to conquer people, take their lands. And when people don't like that, they get together sometimes and try to kick the people in charge out."

Peach's face slackened, her eyes unfocused as she seemed to wrestle with this new concept. _Of course, _Bowser thought. _As sweet as she seems, she was born into royalty. She can be educated in many things, but her tutors aren't likely instructed to tell her how things really are for the common man. _He wished he'd thought of that before.

After a few moments, Peach brightened. "Well, what would make most people happy," she asked earnestly. Bowser sipped at a glass of water and grinned.

"Well, knowing where they're going to get their next meal from is one thing. Shelter's another. Most folks would be fairly content to have those two things secured, especially if they can also find steady work. Something that might make them able to get a little ahead if they really keep at it." Peach nodded, still upbeat.

"Shelter, as in a house? I only ask because I don't think there's enough houses for everyone to have one."

"No, no, it doesn't have to be anything so grand as that, Princess." Bowser got up and headed over to the bookshelves, in the non-fiction section. He sanned the books until he found one he wanted, and brought it over to her. "Here. This book covers dozens of ways to create affordable housing for anybody with even the most meager means. Take this with you when your brother takes you back home."

Peach took the book, hopped off of her chair, and hugged him. So caught off-guard was he that at first Bowser just stood there, mute. Finally he relented and embraced her in return for a few moments, catching the disapproving glares of her guards by the door. He released her gently then and smiled at her. "Come on. Let's go to the kitchens and have something to eat," he said.

Together, followed by her guards, a boy and a girl walked down the hallway, friends from very different walks in life. It would be a moment the two guards would remember until their dying days.

Douard had served the ruling family of the Empire all of his adult life, in one capacity or another. His father had also served the country's leaders. His entire lifetime had been spent wholly immersed in politics. Yet nothing in his years could have prepared him for the sort of meeting he stood witness to.

It had begun with Prince Nurik extending formal greetings to Prince Tangerine and his guards and servants. They arranged themselves on the opposite side of a long table dominating the center of the Audience Chamber, Tangerine scowling like a man with a stomach full of acid. His response to Nurik's welcome was to signal for a servant to lean into him, whereupon he drew out a dagger and slit the toadstool's throat, spraying blood all over the floor and edge of the table.

"I'll do that to my own people," Tangerine growled. "What do you think I'll do to yours if they don't get out of the Tegal Swamps?" He shook the dagger off and sheathed it, flapping one hand back at his people to remove the body.

From there, the entire meeting was spent with Prince Nurik trying to explain that he had no contact with or control over those particular Imperial soldiers, and Tangerine countering with belligerent dismissals about such details and thinly veiled or outright threats against the entirety of the Seventh Magistrate territory.

Douard witnessed all of this, and about an hour into the discussion, if it could be rightly called that, he began to disengage from the two Princes, watching the guards and servants, seeking some sign of subtle treachery. Such heated exchanges and overtures were often the perfect distraction from the real action, subtle acts taken by professional spies and saboteurs while nobody was looking. That perfectly summarized most politics, in his mind.

Despite his best efforts, though, another hour went by, and the elder koopa saw no hint of skullduggery. When the second hour concluded, Prince Tangerine sent one of his men to fetch his sister, as they were leaving Gora Empire post-haste, with a parting promise that soon enough, things were going to get bad.

Douard didn't stick around to confer with Prince Nurik the way he usually would. Instead, he made his way for Meechum's quarters to relay what had transpired. The Captain o'the Guard would have to instruct his people to be on their sharpest guard.

The following day, Ardin watched as the children he was teaching under the guise of James Maybrick sparred with one another. He'd been hopeful that they wouldn't realize how out-of-date the maneuvers were that he'd been teaching them, and thus far, his hopes held up.

"Moxy, why aren't you trapping Trim's other hand," Bowser asked, standing next to Ardin suddenly. The toadstool assassin maintained his composure, however, and just nodded to Moxy to encourage him to do what his friend suggested. The sparring continued, and Bowser, smelling of soap and sawdust, leaned down close to him. "Captain Meechum wishes to see you, Mr. Maybrick. Soonest is best."

Ardin grunted and rose to his feet, casting a look into Bowser's eyes. _He suspects something, _Ardin thought. _He isn't sure what, but he suspects something. _ He sauntered toward the main keep alone, and when he took one quick look back to the soccer field, he saw that Bowser was still watching him.

Into the keep he went, taking a winding, looping path to Edward Meechum's office. He knocked once and was immediately answered by another guard in full battle dress, Meechum behind a small metal desk with pen in hand, papers before him.

"Come in, Mr. Maybrick," Meechum said without looking up. Ardin took a few steps in, and though he expected the doorto shut behind him, it didn't. "Mr. Maybrick, your current agreement with Prince Nurik is to train our young permanent guests in defending themselves, yes?"

"It is, aye," Ardin grunted.

"I have before me an extension contract, Mr. Maybrick. It details an agreement to aid in the defense of his castle and its denizens in the event of openly declared warfare with the Mushroom Kingdom."

"Did the talks go that badly," Ardin asked, trying to sound genuinely concerned. Meechum didn't look up, instead pushing papers across the desk with a pen.

"You have 48 hours to decide. If you will not sign on, we will ask you to leave the village and not return until the atmosphere is less bloody. And Mr. Maybrick?" Now Meechum looked up at him, steepling his fingers. "I've looked into your background, sir. Or tried to, anyway. And do you know what I discovered?" Ardin remained silent; he'd been through this sort of dialogue before. "Nothing, sir. I found nothing. You are a phantom, even in your homeland.

"I've also watched your instruction, and can say with certainty that you've never worked with children before, only adults. The techniques you are teaching most of our children are obsolete, and can get them killed in a real fight if they face professionally trained soldiers with any experience. Bowser alone you teach adult techniques of use to, due to his size. He can hold his own, thanks to that.

"But this is just a job to you," Meechum said, looking back down to his papers. "So either extend your contract, or leave. You have two days." Ardin took the papers and showed himself out, holding back mad laughter all the way to his rented room.

Only hours remained before his task was complete.

Prince Nurik, youngest son of the Emperor, stood on his balcony as night fell, watching the sky darken inevitably toward the day's end. He had tried to be diplomatic with Tangerine, truly. Shocking as the Mushroom Kingdom's heir behaved, he held for him no enmity; passion could drive men to madness, he knew. No man or woman of any kind had ever lived a life fully without at least a singular spark of that lunatic impulse.

Still, mad or no, Prince Nurik could not simply sit idly by while the situation deteriorated even further. He would personally lead an entourage of his soldiers to the Tegal Swamps to demand the Impirial troops there withdraw at once. No officer could refuse an order from any of the Princes; such was law in the Empire for generations. Only a sealed edict from the Emperor himself could override such a command.

He would leave Meechum in charge in his stead. Douard would be the natural choice, but Nurik wanted him along on the trip, for the sagely old koopa held the respect of almost every soldier who ever served in the Empire. Once the chief tactician for the Emperor, soldiers still studied the manual he'd written when he was but fifteen years old.

_Besides, Meechum's good with the staff and the children,_ he reasoned. Prince Nurik pushed away from the balcony railing and turned around.

There, standing in the doorway with a black, round clay ball with a burning fuse, was a male toadstool in dark gray assassin's leathers. Nurik's mouth drooped open, yet no words escaped him. The toadstool gave him a crazed, toothy smile, left eye twitching.

"All hail the Mushroom Kingdom," the toadstool said, rolling the bomb forth and pulling the balcony window shut as he darted away. Prince Nurik managed to get halfway to the window when the bomb went off, and the course of history in all Famicom changed forever.


	12. Chapter 12- Hysteria

Some kind of explosion rocked the entire castle, yanking Bowser out of a sound sleep. He was out in the hallway in seconds, roughly pushed aside by armed guards rushing past on their way to the north end of the castle. His mother, quartered across the hall from the boys, came out bleary-eyed from her own deep slumber, rubbing her arms. "What's going on," she asked blearily.

"No idea, mother," Bowser muttered. Then they heard a clang and clash of steel, followed by grunts and cries of wounded men. Hot on the heels of these sounds came a sound Bowser would never forget.

In a blood-curdling shriek, a man cried out, "All hail the Mushroom Kingdom! Death to the koopa scum!" From around the bend in the corridor ahead came sprinting a toadstool man in blood-spattered gray leathers, wicked, curved blades in his hands, face contorted in a madman's leering grin. He bore down toward them faster than anyone Bowser had ever seen.

His mother was on him in a flash, shoving Bowser roughly back into the boys' bedchamber. As he fell, Bowser reached out for her, the world before and around him slowed to an agonizing crawl. He watched as each of the knobby knuckles on his hand stretched out, his mother's eyes still squinted from the massive effort of shoving him out of harm's way. He heard the thud of feet behind her, watched helplessly as a hooked knife arced down over her shoulder, carving a bloody path through her throat as the assassin sprinted by. He smelled the thick, coppery tang of his mother's blood as droplets sprayed down toward the floor, her eyes now rolling up in her head.

As he hit the floor, time resumed its normal flow, and Bowser howled like a dragon over his mother's body.

For three days, life flowed over and around the young mutant koopa without seeming to touch him in any significant way. The evening of the assassin's run devolved into screaming, rushing guards, Meechum helping drag Bowser off to the infirmary, and the occasional word of news which filtered its way to the primary castle healer and his staff, overheard by Bowser on his bed. He didn't react to anything he heard that night, and only roused himself long enough to use the bathroom twice.

The morning brought Meechum, who withheld nothing from Bowser. He informed the numbed boy that guards in the lower village had discovered the remnants of a false hobgoblin skin left in a rented room, along with a letter from Prince Tangerine ordering his assassin to infiltrate the Empire and slay one of its Princes, preferrably Nurik. His lands being the border between the nations, this seemed to make sense.

The letter also instructed the assassin to kill anyone he had to in order to get away alive. Bowser didn't respond, but every word Meechum told him was being filed away in his mind, and these last ones came stamped in crimson with shimmering flecks of gold.

Moxy, Trim and Doko came by an hour later to sit with him and try talking to him, but Bowser just lay there and stared at the ceiling. The guards and staff were all in a tizzy, they informed him, nobody certain of anything beyond their need to listen to Douard. The sagely older koopa tried to keep everybody calm, to maintain order, but he faced an uphill battle.

Around midday, news reached the castle that Prince Dulaha, second son of the Emperor, was en route to assess the situation and take control of the territory. He would arrive the next afternoon, the staff said. Bowser lay silent in his infirmary bed and wondered how much more his life was about to change.

Second Advisor Limkin knelt at the bottom of the steps leading up to the Emperor's throne, head bent down, arms shackled behind his back. Ben Godash stood behind and to the left of the throne, barely withholding the urge to cackle like a hyena at the once-smug little man below. _This used to be your spot, Limkin! Look up at me, and see me in victory!_

The Emperor, his blue shell matched by brilliant robes in various shades of the same color, grimaced down at Limkin in disgust. "Advisor Limkin," rumbled the Emperor, his booming voice echoing around the marble throne room. The rounded, polished columns vibrated with his voice, causing a faint tremor to ripple through every surface. This effect was achieved with enchantments placed on the Emperor's throne itself, magic lent to the royal family back when Gora Empire was still the Koopa Kingdom. "You bring on an instructor from Hyrule, without getting any verification of who he claims to be. You send him into the castle of my youngest son. He turns out to be an assassin working for Prince Tangerine. He kills Nurik and several others, and sews panic in the east. Does that sound about right?"

"Yes, my Lordship," Limkin said through puffy lips. The guards had not been kind when bringing him before the Emperor.

"This level of incompetence is intollerable, and has lost me a son," said the Emperor. "Your grievous lack of judgment is hereby charged as treason. How do you plead?" Godash stood ready, documents tucked within his robes should Limkin do as he expected, and try to lay the blame at his feet.

"I plead guilty, my Lordship," Limkin said. Godash flinched, but just barely. _This is not what I expected! What's going on here?_

"Very well," said the Emperor. "You shall be executed summarily by beheading. Have you any final words, Limkin?" A black shell koopa in heavy armor, wielding a double-sided battle axe stepped out from behind a support column and slowly began ascending the steps toward Limkin on the first landing.

"Only this," Limkin said, raising his head. "The assassin struck from ambush, a coward employing trickery and subterfuge." Here, turned his head and full attention toward Godash. "I have known other men like this. You should beware them, Emperor." The condemned koopa glared at Godash a moment longer, then lowered his head, forehead pressed against a stone step, neck stretched out.

The Emperor waved a hand casually, and the executioner's axe fell, cleaving cleanly through, parting head from body. Godash should have felt jubilant, elated, but where those feelings should have pranced in the meadows of his mind, he found instead a barren dust bowl.

Something was wrong, and Limkin's acceptance of his fate felt like a sign of bigger problems ahead.

Bowser showered in the private bathroom attached to the boys' quarters, making himself presentable for the funeral service. He could feel Meechum's protective presence outside the chamber, as well as the nervous energy of Rompus and Willow beyond him in the corridor. His friends were already dressed and ready to go in the castle's main entryway, all of them giving Bowser his space.

He appreciated it, but the gesture made him feel lonlier than he had ever known. He turned off the water and stepped out, toweling off and putting his spiked shell on, fixing it in place without decoration. In his mind's eye he once more saw the assassin, bearing down on he and his mother, eyes perfectly sane, aware of what he was doing.

Everybody around him thought the assassin a zealot in service to Prince Tangerine. Bowser recalled those eyes, and wasn't so sure about that. He flipped the lights off and exited the bathroom.

Meechum, Rompus and Willow silently guided him to the front of the castle, where a long kart awaited them all. They loaded in and rode to the cemetery, located just west of the village. The service focused mainly on Prince Nurik, who would not remain in that resting place. The guards who had fallen were given collective rites, and of Bowser's mother, only a few passing sentences were uttered by the priest.

Yet her casket and headstone were immaculate, and Bowser knew without question this was Meechum's doing. Douard might have approved the expenditure, but that would be all. The elder koopa had too much else to contend with. No, Meechum had ever been close to Bowser and his mother. It was likely he'd hand-picked these for her.

Watching his mother's casket lowered into the earth, Bowser suddenly thought, _I'm an orphan now. _Not yet ten years old, and both of his parents now lay in the ground. In times of strife, however, this was not uncommon, especially among the lower castes.

This idea seemed to echo through Bowser's mind as the group rode back from the village. The class system the Empire used pushed good men like his father into menial jobs and lesser living conditions, while promoting and elevating the likes of Benjamin Godash, a conniving, cowardly lout. _It's our system that causes our anguish,_ Bowser thought.

When they got back to the castle, Douard met them at the gates, looking haggard, diminished. Past him, filling almost the entire main courtyard before the keep itself, stood soldiers in full battle dress, their transport wagons bearing the mark of Prince Dulaha, a rounded shield covered with a silver spear. Bowser climbed down off the kart's extended back flatbed, heart racing as he saw that Douard's travel trunk and many of his bags and books lay in the dust alongside it.

"You've been sacked," Meechum said, approaching the older koopa, who nodded silently. Meechum reached out, and the two men briefly clasped one another. When Meechum pulled away, he looked past Douard's shoulder. "Who's this black shell coming our way?" Douard looked back and sighed, sagging.

"He's an Impirial Conscription Officer," said Douard. As soon as the words were out o his mouth, Bowser heard a commotion behind him, turning to see the two oldest children of staff who'd attended the funeral and their respective parents making a break to run away.

"In the name of the Emperor, you will halt or you will die," the black shell roared, stomping past Meechum and Douard, flanked by koopas and human soldiers bearing long bows. Most of those running stopped, but not Reggie, the oldest koopa boy, or his father Nigel, Prince Nurik's kart mechanic.

The Conscription Officer grunted, and arrows flew. Reggie and Nigel barely made a sound as they were made into bloody pin cushions, dropped to the ground in an instant. He looked around and offered a stone-faced glare at them all. "I am sergeant Alka Katool, of the Impirial Army. If you are fifteen years of age or older, stand over there," he said, pointing to one side. "Younger, over there," pointing opposite. As Bowser headed to his left, Katool barked, "Hey! I said over on the other side!"

"He is but nine years old," said Douard behind the sergeant. The black shell turned about, eyebrow raised. "He's a mutant, overdeveloped."

"I can see that. What's his name?"

"Bowser. Bowser Entem," said Douard. At the sergeant's bright, murderous smile, he cringed back.

"Bowser? This is the one who made the cannons and living shells?"

"I am," Bowser said proudly, puffing out his chest as Katool wheeled on him. "What of it?"

"Oh, kid, you're not going to the front lines," said the sergeant. "Nah, Prince Dulaha has other orders for you."


	13. Chapter 13-War Machines

Prince Dulaha turned out to be a far cry different than his littlest brother, Nurik. When Bowser was taken to him, Dulaha told him in no uncertain terms that he would be designing and helping build prototypes of more assault weaponry like his Bullet Bill cannon, all in the name of the Empire. It was either that, or, due to his age, transfer to the Little Sisters of Mercy Orphanage. Bowser detested this tyrant instantly, but figured he'd be either bored at Little Sisters or killed by the nuns for disobedience.

Such things happened there, after all, especially to mutant children.

So Bowser was given the old kart mechanics' garage and quarters within the castle, ordered to work to develop more weaponry or machines for the war effort, and left to his devices, by and large. With his friends and their families removed from the castle and banned from the village, he had almost nobody to talk to. Almost.

Willow and Rompus were somehow able to convince Dulaha's new Captain o'the Guard, a red tribe named Garrick, to keep them on as Bowser's minders. The first week after the funeral service and Dulaha's establishment in the castle, Bowser spent most of his time quietly working on Bullet Bill cannons and sketching new machines. His paratroopa guardians didn't try to interrupt or distract him, giving him room to grieve and adjust to his new circumstances.

During the second week, Bowser began issuing requests for working materials to develop one of his designs. News quickly filtered to the castle of an official decree from the capital that war had been openly declared by both the Gora Empire and the Mushroom Kingdom against one another. The front lines were said to be approximately fifteen miles into the western border of the Mushroom Kingdom.

As war was now acknowledged, Bowser had his materials the next day, and six koopa engineers of various tribes were assigned by Prince Dulaha to assist him in his efforts. By the end of that second week, they were halfway finished with a new kind of assault kart, equipped with Fire Flower cannons and Bob-omb launchers. Prince Dulaha personally visited the workshop and heaped praise on Bowser for his genius.

The young koopa didn't respond in any way. He was devoid of all outward signs of emotion, as lifeless as his machines. The only way in which he acknowledged the Prince was to faintly nod or shake his head in response to yes or no questions. Dulaha seemed to neither notice or care.

Three months into the Gora-Mushroom War, however, Bowser's silent but steady demeanor began worrying many in the castle, the Prince included.

Two weeks before the first major battle in Empire territory, something happened that would make that vague unease transform into full-blown fear.

Bowser awoke as he sometimes did in those days, his neck, shoulders and hips aching from having fallen asleep on a roller cart underneath a transport vehicle. He groaned and stretched hs limbs, rolling the crawler out from under the vehicle and sitting up, head throbbing. _Well, happy birthday to me, _he thought dismally. _Ten years old. Big deal._ He got to his feet and lumbered to the workshop's attached bathroom.

When he came back out and headed to the minifridge kept to one side of the workspace, plucking out an orange and a bagel, he spotted the previous day's newspaper sitting on a nearby bench. Alejandro, one of his best workers, brought in the paper every day. Nobody ever saw Bowser reading it, but only because he did so when nobody else was around. He knew all about what was going on in the war.

The headline atop the previous day's edition: '17th Infantry Digs In, Holds New Front Line'. The article said that the Mushroom Kingdom had been forced back to the original border between nations, a lucky thing for Gora Empire, who'd steadily lost ground over the last month. Sure, the Empire had superior technology, but the Kingdom had far more magic at its disposal. In a head-to-head confrontation, skilled wizards almost always won out over technologically advanced opponents.

Bowser briefly read the article, then fixed his bagel and orange, eating at the counter. He made a fresh pot of coffee, and was halfway through his first cup when Alejandro came in through the workshop's side door. Bowser quickly checked the schedule tacked up over the microwave, then addressed the human.

"Alejandro, you're not scheduled today," Bowser said flatly. "You can head back home."

"No I can't," said Alejandro, dropping a duffel bag on the workshop floor and yanking his gray coveralls out. "Got in a fight with Tina this morning. I'm not going back there right now."

"You won't get paid."

"I don't care, man," he replied, running a hand through his hair, which was still greasy from the previous day's work. "I'll head back after I'm done being pissed."

"That's fine," said Bowser. He sipped his coffee and headed over to his desk, sketchbook opened to his next project. "There's fresh coffee." Alejandro grabbed a mug and poured himself some, staring idly at the two transport trucks on lifts filling most of the workspace.

Bowser could tell from where he stood that whatever the fight was about, it had his best human worker in a state of mind that bordered on murder. Gaze with wonder upon the beautiful lands of Bruised Faces and Flesh Wounds! Yet he had come to recognize that Alejandro was not a man naturally atuned to violence just through observation. For him to be this upset, things must've been catastrophically bad at home that morning.

Soon the other three workmen scheduled for the day arrived, koopas all who'd been declared more useful here than on the front lines. They were just getting t work when one of Dulaha's black shell guards, a brute named Simlow, muscled his way into the workshop from the castle access door.

"Help you, Simlow," Bowser asked from his desk, pencil in hand. He'd modified a couple of small details on his next project's outline, and had just one or two more bits to correct. Simlow grunted at Bowser and stalked past, out onto the workshop floor.

"You men are all pathetic," Simlow growled, stalking among them as they worked, hands hanging loosely over the handles of his combat hammers. "Unworthy of even serving as infantry, eh? Well," he said, stopping next to Springer, a green tribe on a crawler working on undercarriage armor for one of the transports. "I don't see anything physically wrong with you." Simlow reached down and grabbed Springer's ankle, dragging the koopa out from under the truck.

"Hey," Springer yelped in alarm, everyone else backing away. Bowser shot up out of his chair, slowly coming around his desk.

"What's your excuse, weakling," Simlow snapped, his teeth exposed in a snarl. He drew out one of his hammers, twirling it nonchalantly. "You 'fraid of the toadstools and humans in Mushroom Kingdom?"

"N-n-n-no," Springer stammered. "I got a, a, a nervous condition, makes me too twitchy."

"Ah." Simlow swung the large hammer up so its head rested against his right shoulder. "I thought it was maybe your foot."

"My foot?"

"Yeah, on account of it being busted," said Simlow. His face went from a serpent's smile to a berserker snarl in an instant, and as Bowser and Springer cried out in protest, the black shell Hammer Brother brought his weapon down with a sickening crunch on Springer's left ankle. Blood flew from flesh cut by the jagged, broken bone as Simlow drew the hammer up again.

And the Hammer Brother stood in that pose as Bowser's fireball, thrown from his throat, exploded against his black shell and legs. The fire roared, and instantly Simlow became a shrieking bulge of flames running mindlessly around the workshop, arms flailing. Bowser took up a long-handled wrench, took careful aim, and hurled it at Simlow as he bounced off of the outer garage bay doors.

It slammed into his face with such force that he was driven back against the bay doors before sliding down, finishing in a limp pile of groaning, burning meat in armor. The other workmen had finally snapped out of their terror-fueled haze, winding out the hose used to wash the karts and hosing Simlow down. When the fames were extinguished, Bowser stalked over to the fallen koopa, and snatched up his other combat hammer.

"Never again," Bowser rasped, tearing Simlow's charred helmet off of his head. With a low grunt, Bowser swung the hammer down atop Simlow's skull, thick, brackish blood squeezing out over his charred face. Eyes rolled up, Simlow fell over with a brittle creak, dead as could be. Bowser stood panting over the body, looking down into the slack face of the fallen Hammer Brother. "Alejandro, take Springer to the infirmary. The rest of you, back to work. I'll be back shortly," he said without looking around.

In the corridor attaching the castle to the garage, Bowser found Willow and Rompus throwing dice against a wall. He stopped just shy of them and cleared his throat. Willow looked up, and beamed at the younger koopa, who almost stood eye-to-eye with her. "Bowser! What do you need, honey?"

"Please inform Prince Dulaha that I have killed Simlow," Bowser said evenly, eliciting a gasp from his paratroopa minders. "And please tell him I'll be in the shop with the body."

Prince Nurik had been a refined koopa of average build and intellectual, thoughtful demeanor. If he had a polar opposite among his kin, it was Dulaha, a massive blue shell broader and taller by half, dressed always in full combat armor with a wicked spear on his back. His features were brutish and heavy, with none of the keen wit that shone in Nurik's eyes. He stared down in blank surprise at the Hammer Brother's corpse, a squad of soldiers arrayed around Bowser, spear tips aimed at him as he stood a few feet to one side.

"You did this, boy," Dulaha asked quietly.

"I did," Bowser replied.

"How? Gasoline? Power Mushroom oil?"

"I accidentally swallowed a Fire Flower seed when I was newly hatched. Instead of killing me, it took root in my guts. I can breath fire." Dulaha craned his head over to look at him, and Bowser stared back.

"Prove it," Dulaha said. Bowser turned his head, aiming his mouth at a welding shield leaned against a far work bench. He spat out a rounded fireball at it, and the guards all flinched back from him as he faced Dulaha again. _Yes, fire in his guts, ice in his veins, _the Prince thought. "From what you've told me, Simlow assaulted your man unprovoked, yes?"

"Yes. Broke his foot. He's in the infirmary now," said Bowser.

"Hmm. Well," said Dulaha, clapping his hands together. "As a Prince of the Empire, I hereby declare this killing righteous. You were attempting to defend a helpless fellow citizen from an out-of-control koopa. Justified. Now, aside from a new worker to cover for your injured man, what else can I do for you, young Bowser?" Bowser looked at the guards, who were now drawing away from him, spears being returned to their back holsters.

"We need to talk," Bowser said, moving toward his desk. He sat down, and Dulaha sat at a spare chair beside him, an enormous man indeed. He reeked of sweat and sour onions, but Bowser didn't much care. He had the man's attention. Dulaha saw the glare Bowser aimed at his guards, and dismissed them from the shop with a flap of his hand. The other mechanics were already out in the corridor, waiting to be let back in.

"It's just you and I now, so talk," Dulaha said.

"I've almost run out of sentient iron ore," Bowser began. "With Hyrule shutting us off from more supply, we're out of luck there."

"How do you know of the sanctions?"

"Newspapers," Bowser replied. "It's fine for now, but I'll have to compensate. Any more Bullet Bills will be dumb as stone with a diluted mix, but we haven't much choice. But I'm worried more about my supply of copper and Power Mushroom oil. My machines need that oil to function."

"I know. My father has spent an exhorbitant amount of money lately buying more from the lands of Konami to the east. They don't even use it there, so they sort of have us by the balls."

"What about Dino Island, south of the continent, between Famicom and the lands of Sega," Bowser asked.

"Protected by the Mushroom Kingdom, though only barely," said Dulaha, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "They maintain a small contingent force there, non-invasive to the local animals and the occasional goombas that seem to spring up out of nowhere. We could easily overrun them with a single battalion."

"You might not even need that," Bowser said, flipping through his sketchbook. He finally showed one of his pages to Dulaha. It showed a kind of strange oversized tea cup, but with propellers on the bottom and a basket for holding bob-ombs around its rim. "I recommend using a mid-sized vessel sail to a point five miles from the coast, then launching ten to twelve of these for bombing runs. Paratroopas or lakitus can be adjoined for support, but these would be armored against standard weaponry."

"Transteel," Dulaha asked.

"Yes. I understand we don't have much, but we have enough to armor twenty-five of these units. We'll only need twelve to fifteen of them, though," Bowser said. "What do you think?"

"I think I'll send a wire to my father seeking his permission in this," said Dulaha, rising from his seat. "You can begin work on those tomorrow, regardless of his reply. Even if he says no, we can still use them at the front." Dulaha got up and headed for the castle access corridor, stopping at the door to look back. "As for the sentient ore, there may yet come a solution to our supply needs." Bowser nodded, asking no questions, and the Prince left him. His workmen came back in and set to work once more.

None of them talked back or threw jokes his way for the remainder of the work day. The look in their eyes spoke volumes, and the word they said was unquestionably 'fear'.


	14. Chapter 14- Pushing Forward

It took three months for the vessels to sail to Dino Island and return, but in the end, it was well worth it for the Empire. The Mushroom Kingdom troops stationed there had been even fewer in number than Dulaha thought, quickly wiped out in about a week. Exploratory groups located and picked wild Power Mushrooms and Fire Flowers to their hearts' content, even harvesting pirana plants native to the island.

When they returned, loaded down with Power Mushrooms and spores, the Empire soon found itself with a glorious surplus of oil. Scores of Bowser's war machines were factory-built in no time at all, and one month after the ships' return, Impirial forces began pressing the front line into Kingdom territory again.

Bowser kept up with the news of the war as best he could, installing a radio in the shop and keeping it set for most of the day to news stations. In his private quarters, he kept three, one in the living room, one in the bedroom and one in the bathroom. He was constantly barraged with information, though much of it sounded more like propaganda than news. He'd become adept at filtering out the nationalist gas-baggery from the substantive data.

His slaying of Simlow seemed to have purchased Bowser a certain degree of space. Willow and Rompus were the only two in all of the castle who successfully stayed around him, and Willow, the female koopa, hadn't allowed him to be more than a few rooms away since the incident. With no offspring of her own, all of her maternal instinct was now focused on him.

Winter was coming soon to Famicom, and the brutal forces of nature would dependably slow down the savagery on the war front. Both sides would recalculate for snowy battles, and Bowser suspected that it was the Empire who held the edge there, since koopas were cold-blooded.

On a Saturday morning almost a month from the first snowfall, Bowser awoke with a steady throb throughout his entire body. He knew these stirrings for what they were; another growth spurt, possibly his last for a long time, was coming. Already the size of a tall male, he worried about how he'd adapt to whatever new size he reached.

Rolling out of bed, he readied himself for his one day off of work duties in the shop. His mind wandered to thoughts of the castle library, the only room left completely unchanged since Nurik had been in residence. Dulaha clearly didn't consider himself much of a scholar, though he didn't seem inclined to decry intellect. His dismissal of Douard had been explained as part of a 'clean sweep' policy, which evidently held that when any Prince or other ranking Impirial Officer of note took command of a holding, the previous staff were always replaced from top to bottom.

More than anything, Bowser just wanted to be left alone for the day. Spending his time in quiet reading or contemplation seemed just the thing to do. He made his way to the library, and the heavy scent of dust choked him when he entered. The floor didn't even show tracks as he moved slowly among the shelves. Nobody had been in here since last he'd stopped in almost two months before.

That seemed an awful waste.

Bowser selected a copy of 'Tales of Dreamland' from the mythology section and made his way to the grand fireplace, breathing flames onto the dried wood he set within. He settled into a cozy armchair, and soon his mind flew away to far off lands, transported as no Warp Pipe could do.

Benjamin Godash stood with his mouth hanging slightly agape, the messenger still in his apartment doorway. The goomba seemed eager to leave, but he required Godash's permission. "Sir?"

"Oh, um, yes, yes, you are dismissed," Godash said, flapping one scaley hand at the messenger. He'd been plotting for months now, readying the sudden shame that would befall the First Advisor, hundreds of hours of planning and manipulation spent. And now, all of it was rendered unnecessary.

The First Advisor had suffered a heart storm in the middle of the night, and been unable to recover. Poof, just like that, and now Godash had what he'd been after for his entire career, the spot right next to the Emperor's chair. He stared down at his cup of morning coffee, unable to process anything else.

_It's mine. The seat is mine._ There should have been fireworks going off in his head, but he couldn't help but think about all of the appointments he was going to have to shuffle around. He quickly slurped down his coffee, then headed for the First Chair's office, which was guarded by three spear-wielding black shells and one with hammers. He realized after a moment it was Turiya.

"Ah, Turiya," he said happily. "Tell me, do you have my new key?"

"I do, lordship," replied the muscular Hammer Brother. "You are expected to have men bring all of your pertinent effects to this office by tomorrow morning. At that time, I'll need the Second Chair office key back."

"Of course." Turiya handed a small gold key to Godash, who swiftly unlocked the door and nipped inside. The First Chair had been an organized man, and it showed in his spartan but highly functional office. His blotter stood filled with notes on the desk, with one appointment scheduled for an hour from Godash's arrival, a meeting with the Minister of Finance.

Opening the top drawer on the right side, he found a couple of Impirial law guides and a small book about horse breeding. In the drawer below that, he located a heavy-looking tome embossed with a gold flyleaf header reading 'Treasury'. He pulled this out and opened it to the most recent page, reading the carefully written notes of his predecessor.

The last entry worried him. It read: 'Have scheduled a meeting with Minister Roback, of Finance, to discuss the latest budget discrepancies. I fear he or someone high up in his Ministry has been syphoning off funds for private use. All efforts to track the money have met with dead ends, and in one instance, a dead shadow agent. Simmons assures me he's looked into Roback's own finances, and found nothing there more worthy of a stern talking to than his spending personal money on those little figurines of his. Still, this does exempt him from inquiry, though the man is such a milquetoast, it really is unlikely he's embezzling.'

Godash quickly thumbed through several prior entries, seeking his own name, but coming up empty. A search of one of the filing cabinets turned up a folder with his name on the tab and a much thinner notebook within, along with official papers. A swift peek in the journal gave him some comfort; there wasn't much written within. He would read it more thoroughly later.

In the official file, however, there was one damning bit of information, but it had been unavoidable. Using his on private funds, Godash had purchased a batch of Rings about three years back, exchanging at what would turn out later to be a good rate, five Coins for each Ring. The going rate now was twelve Coins per Ring, more than double the rate he'd bought in at. The lands of Sega were doing well.

Putting these documents aside, Godash exited the office momentarily, instructing Turiya to have Minister Roback come see him whenever he arrived. Turiya saluted and passed the word along. The new day had dawned.

Another four days passed almost entirely without incident, but Wednesday afternoon saw Bowser's temper almost spill over as he read a small story on the paper's fourth page- Benjamin Godash had been officially confirmed as the new First Chair Advisor to the Emperor.

Bowser left his men to work, quietly excusing himself outside, where he roared in fury and spat half a dozen balls of fire skyward out of frustration. What was happening should not have been allowed, in his mind. But who could possibly keep up with the oily politician, with a war going and the Empire's financial affairs potentially turning sour?

Even Bowser, who thirsted for vengeance, had to focus on his work for the war. Back inside, he oversaw some modifications personally, seeking any and all distractions. He had to keep himself occupied, lest his fury boil over into rage.

Lost in his work, he kept himself under control for the time being.

Two more weeks later, Benjamin Godash stood on the ensorcelled balcony off of te Emperor's throne room, watching the snow fall silently on the lands below and before them. The aged blue tribe ruler shook his head somberly. "This cease-fire cannot last," he murmured.

"Sire?"

"We agreed to it for economic reasons, Ben, but we're still in a bind. If the winter proves a harsh one, it will be just as bad for us as for the toadstools." The Emperor sipped his tea, set the cup down on the small tray standing between their seats. "We need a decisive victory, something that will cripple them, force them to reconsider engaging with us again."

"I'm given to understand we have a brilliant engineer working on various war machines for us under Prince Dulaha's command," said Godash. "I have yet to learn the name of this enterprising koopa, but it is said that he is young." Emperor Harin snickered.

"That is an understatement," said the older koopa. "He's all of ten or eleven years old, a mutant larger than many adults." Godash felt his muscles bunch up, his mind racing. "Bowser is his name."

"Bowser," Godash rasped, staring off at the snowfall. "Like the dragon of lore."

"Just so," said Harin. "Unfortunately for him, his latest design requires more material than we have here in Gora. I've had his blueprints passed on to a third party in Sega, a Doctor Robotnik. He's thoroughly impressed."

"And the cost," Godash asked, trying to get his mind back off of the ice float it had landed on at the boy's name.

"We'll only purchase five for now," Harin said. "A hundred-thousand Coins per unit." He looked over at Godash and narrowed his eyes, pitching his voice low. "I know that puts us in dangerous territory, financially. To pay for the cost, I've approved a one-time war tax. But if we're to remain solvent, you need to find out where our money's disappearing to, Benjamin. My people are already strapped, and another tax is going to push some to consider doing something stupid."

"There's another way to get funding," Godash blurted, desperate now. He'd found the source of the missing Coin from the treasury; instead of calling the man out, he'd leaned on him to put some of the ill-gotten funds aside for Godash. More digging around would out him and see him before the executioner, like Limkin.

"Oh? Pray tell, what is that way?"

"Gannondorf," Godash said. Harin wrinkled his nose in distaste. "We can get money from him and materials both, and we can leverage our own conflict to get him to agree."

"Oh? How is that, Benjamin?"

"It is no secret that the warlock prepares to make war against the Kingdom of Hyrule to try and conquer it for his own. But if we should falter, Hyrule will have easy access to their allies in the Mushroom Kingdom." The Emperor turned aside, looking out into the falling snow, ruminating. After five minutes of torturous silence, he grunted.

"You're absolutely certain this tactic will work?"

"Yes, I am," said Godash, masking his relief.

"I shall have an emmisary sent to Gannondorf tonight," said the Emperor. "We should have word back by morning. Our own Grand Magus will be present if the warlock agrees to come, as will you. I will not personally favor the beast with my regard." Harin made a small gesture over his shoulder. Godash felt the presence just inside the balcony curtain, a whorling vacuum of lethal capacity made tangible by its mere proximity.

_He makes Ardin feel safe to be around, _Godash thought. "Need you anything else of me, Your Emminence," Godash asked politely, a clear signal that he knew he was about to be dismissed.

"No." Harin returned to his watch of the falling snow, wrapping his country in a lifeless blanket of frozen white. When Godash was well gone, he smirked. "Beautiful, this stillness," he said to himself.

When Godash arrived in the Heavenly Palace's dungeons, he spotted Grand Magus Wunderweiss almost immediately. The black granite used to construct these subterranean corridors were in complete contrast with his white silk robes, purple shell tucked under a cloth cover. Eyes half-lidded, Wunderweiss looked perpetually haughty and amused, as if he knew some witty punchline that nobody else had caught just yet.

"Is he here," Godash asked quietly, amazed at how even the lowest spoken words seemed to echo down here.

"Not yet," said the Grand Magus, pulling his leathery hands from his robe sleeves. "A shaft of transference light shines in the cell we're using for our talk, however. He should materialize shortly." Wunderweiss turned about and led Godash to the cell, where a column of faint light shone from floor to ceiling in the center of the dank chamber. The smell of vanilla, wafting from a pair of incense sticks lit beside a small oil lamp, filled the air, alleviating some of the foulness of the atmosphere.

Several minutes later, the column flashed out in a blinding, soundless blast. When Godash brought his arms down from defending against the flash, a tall, broad figure in a black hooded cloak stood before he and Wunderweiss, the tip of its hawkish nose poking out of the darkness of its hood.

"Comes to you Lord Gannondorf, future ruler of Hyrule," said the tall man, throwing back his hood. The face revealed was elvish, with fine features and pointed ears uncovered by crimson hair swept back and tied into a ponytail. Gimlet yellow eyes glared down at Godash, the olive green skin catching his focus. "You," he said, turning his head toward Wunderweiss, "must be the Grand Magus, Wunderweiss. You have my respect, sir. I have read both of your essays regarding the advancement of fused magical theory, and find them both fascinating and informative."

"Thank you," said the Magus with a formal bow. "And as I understand it, you've recently recovered the lost art of manifesting ghosts, yes?"

"You are well read indeed," said Gannondorf with a nod. He then turned a lascivious smile down upon Godash. "And you, sir, must be the politician."

"First Chair Advisor Benjamin Godash," the koopa replied solidly. "I believe you were informed of why I've reached out."

"Yes, financial support," said the warlock. "I am aware of your Empire's monetary woes. You've enough to make due, but to strike during winter, you either need another round of tax collections from the people, or some external source of funding."

"You have the understanding of it perfect, sir," said Godash with a wry grin. "And we are similarly aware that you have amassed a small but powerful army in the southern forests and swamps of Hyrule which border on our country, a force which could ill afford to have Hyrule's allies in the Mushroom Kingdom march on them through lands we might lose if our efforts fail." Gannondorf's smile faded some, his eyes narrowing.

"Mutual gain, then," the warlock said quietly. "Touche, sir."

"So, how much are you willing to donate to the Empire's cause," Godash asked, feeling more confident.

"I can offer you five million Coin," Gannondorf replied. "But only if I gain something more from the bargain." Godash twirled on finger to invite him to continue. "How many humans serve in your armies along the front?"

"Perhaps four thousand in all," Wunderweiss replied.

"More than enough," said Gannondorf. "Those that fall in battle, I would like their remains sent to my camp," said the warlock. "I have, uses, for such things." Godash felt his flesh crawling at the possible implications, but he agreed readily enough. "You'll want to clear this room when I leave gentlemen," said the warlock, raising his hood once more. "This will be where your funds arrive."

Godash and Wunderweiss quickly exited the cell, and moments later there came a tremulous BOOM! When Godash pulled the cell door open, a deluge of Coins came flowing out over his legs.

"Grand Magus, I think we've just received what we need for this war."


	15. Chapter 15- Days of Glory

For the first month of winter the cease-fire held, a tense quiet punctuated by movements just beyond the front lines on both sides. Yet when Gora Empire's new drill tanks arrived, manufactured in Sega and shipped via air drop to the front, everything changed. The Mushroom Kingdom's realignment of forces became terrified, frozen retreat as Gora Empire's infantry forces, led by the tanks, marched forth.

The first two weeks of having those tanks would become forever known as 'The Days of Red Snow'. When Gora backed off finally, the front lines had been pushed seventy miles into the Mushroom Kingdom from north end to south tip. Villages were looted, greenhouse crops stolen and distributed among Impirial supplies, and livestock slaughtered for meat. Stockpiles of Power Mushrooms and three hundred drums of oil were discovered and taken as well.

Bowser observed all of this numbly, reading all about it in the papers. His work occupied his days, but his evenings and days off had become focused entirely on research. He'd been working on a drill tank, finishing up some repairs it needed due to damage in transit. The electrical system had been thrown off when several cables and wires got tangled and broken off. While rooting around in the tank's guts, he came upon a thought seemingly out of nowhere, and it was this- _every web can be unwound and observed, tracked back to its beginning._

The assassin who'd slain his mother and Prince Nurik, kicking the Cold War into full flames, left a letter with orders from Prince Tangerine to fulfill the mission of slaying Nurik. But this struck Bowser as sloppy, and thus, suspicious. What assassin would be so careless as to leave documentation around?

Someone had pulled those strings, and it hadn't been the crown Prince of the Mushroom Kingdom. Bowser had been pouring through all sorts of records, requesting papers from the capital that were as many as twelve to fifteen years old. The capital's reply to these requests had been simple; fearing some kind of lawsuit in the making, they'd tried to bury him in paper.

This only worked to his advantage, because now he had _everything_. It took him until winter's tail end to discover writings about a group within the government referred to as The Impirial Shadow. These men and women were the Empire's spies and assassins, and a few of their number shocked him, as they were toadstools who had defected from the Kingdom.

As Bowser lost himself in work and research, the Empire carried on.

Edward Meechum sat at his small folding table, looking at the map before him and the figurines placed to represent warring forces. Now a major in the Impirial Army, he had found himself handed command of an entire division and ordered by general Resik to lead it to Prince Tangerine's hillside demesne and lay siege. Now, ten days into said siege, he found himself getting impatient for progress.

Meechum didn't like this war, not any part of it, but he did find himself noticing a few benefits. For starters, within the enlisted ranks, the caste system seemed to vanish entirely from consideration in the men's minds. Blue shell privates listened to and obeyed green shell sergeants and corporals, their tribe never even once raised as cause for disobeying an order.

Even the officer corps from major down to second lieutenant seemed blissfully color blind this way. He never had to argue with his three blue tribe captains; he said jump, they asked how high. Whatever other problems the Empire had, this war had put the army into a different mindset. There was only victory or defeat for them, and in both instances, each and every koopa in the field might end the day dead.

A tapping came at his front flap. "Enter," he said, not looking up from his map. There came a shuffling of feet, and soon a goomba stood beside him, an envelope held in his teeth. Meechum took it gently.

"This was delivered a short while ago by a Hammer Brother," said the goomba. "He said to make sure that when you finished reading it, you destroy it. Must be pretty important." The goomba used one foot to salute, then quickly toddled out of the tent, leaving Meechum alone with his letter.

The yellow tribe paratroopa used a dagger to cut open the seal on the envelope, pulled the paper out and read it:

'To Edward Meechum, major commanding North Division Three. You are now the closest thing Bowser Entem has to family, so this is vital for you to know. Young Bowser has been requesting all manner of old records and papers, and the capital has been more than happy to oblige. Too happy. Many believe he's seeking some way to file a suit against the Empire for the death of his parents. I personally believe otherwise.

'It is my firm belief that he is attempting to uncover a series of connections which will reveal the cause and party responsible for the assassination of Prince Nurik, which also caused his mother's death, for the purposes of revenge. If the person responsible catches on, I fear Bowser will be in grave danger. Either Bowser must be convinced to stop his search, or he must be helped along so that he can finish before the guilty party can figure out what he's really up to.

'I write you this because I have watched him grow from a distance, and I have arrived at this conclusion over the years- Bowser Entem is the last, best hope for this nation to return to its proper glory and state of honor. Help him not just for his sake, but for all of our sake.

'Signed, Turiya Ferone, Hammer Brother Third'.

Meechum reread the letter twice, committing it to memory before setting it ablaze and letting it burn out in his tent's portable heating pot. He'd heard of Turiya over the years, as would have anyone familiar with the Hammer Brothers. There were always one-hundred Hammer Brothers scattered throughout the Empire, numbered in rank from the least of their number, One Hundredth, to their most elite leader, the First. For the Third to be concerned spoke volumes of the potential danger Bowser was in.

Commanding the siege, Meechum's options were limited, but he began immediately working out what he could do for the boy who had been his ward.

Prince Dulaha yanked the blanket off of Bowser to awaken him one fine Saturday morning a month after Meechum received his letter, the young koopa groaning and coming blearily awake. The Prince stood smiling with his huge hands planted on his hips, dressed in what Bowser could only hope was a joke outfit. On a smaller, more refined koopa, the suit would look dapper, but on him, Bowser was put in mind of someone throwing fine clothes on a gorilla.

"Come on, lazy bones," Dulaha proclaimed loudly. "It's a big day! Get up, get up!"

"It's my day off," Bowser complained, rolling away from the Prince. "Leave me be."

"Have you forgotten already? My betrothed arrives today, Bowser! I needs must make a good impression, or my father will have my hide!" He grabbed Bowser by the shoulder and roughly shook him, careful to be more playful than harmful. "Come on!"

Bowser got up and went about a quick cleanup routine, walking alongside Prince Dulaha toward the dining hall. The young koopa now stood even height and width with Dulaha, who had long been one of the biggest koopas in the Empire, and he wasn't done growing. Soon, he would be over six-and-a-half feet tall.

In the dining hall, servants brought Bowser coffee just as he liked it. His relationship with Dulaha had been essentially neutral until the war began to swing in the Empire's favor. Since then, Prince Dulaha had tried to become at least acquaintances with him. Bowser didn't mind, but he also spared no time of his own to further develop their relationship.

"This all seems like a lot of wind and noise," Bowser commented, taking a bite of toast smeared with strawberry jelly. "Have you ever met this woman, Highness?"

"Twice," said Dulaha. "Though my brother Renoit only met his betrothed once before they married. Which reminds me, you'd mentioned you wanted to meet and speak with Renoit, yes?"

"Very much so," Bowser said. It had taken weeks of tracking clues through hundreds of official documents, but Bowser had finally arrived at the conclusion that Renoit Harin was in charge of the Impirial Shadow. If anyone knew the toadstool assassins working for Gora Empire, it would be him.

"Excellent. I have arranged for you to visit his castle and stay with him for a few days, Monday through Thursday," said Dulaha. The Prince tucked into his breakfast then, eating like a savage on the brink of starvation.

The remainder of Bowser's day was spent in quiet contemplation in the library, barring one interruption for Dulaha to introduce him to Minerva, his betrothed. Bowser thought her one of the most hideous koopa women he'd ever met, but when he saw how fondly Dulaha regarded her, he held his judgment in check. Who was he, after all, to hold contempt for anyone else's view of beauty?

When they departed his company, Bowser's mind turned back to his coming visit to Prince Renoit's.

In four days with Prince Renoit, Bowser learned more than he had over the entire course of the war. Renoit turned out to be quite forthcoming when Bowser, upon being introduced, asked if he was in charge of the Impirial Shadow. "You already know that I am," Renoit had replied with a cold smile. "Walk with me."

Where most of his brothers were large and war-like, Renoit was svelt, toned, and reserved in dress and style. He spoke in a cultured tone, however, giving him a genuinely aristocratic aura similar to Nurik's. However, where Prince Nurik had been warm, inviting and conversational, Renoit was cold, calculating and informative.

The moment Bowser had requested the combat training records for the Princes, Renoit had sent an agent to keep tabs on him at Dulaha's keep. For three months now, Renoit had been receiving daily reports about Bowser's doings, and he admitted to being impressed by the young koopa's mechanical genius and his tenacity in researching, well, whatever it was he was after.

Over tea and biscuits Bowser questioned Renoit about the Shadow and its agents. The Prince didn't give away too many specifics, but through careful questioning, Bowser learned that a total of three former Shadow agents were toadstools, all three now acting as freelance agents.

"Ardin is the best of them, and the one most likely responsible for my brother's death, and thus, this war," Renoit said. He barely managed to recover from letting a hint of anger slip into his voice. "That, frankly, perturbs me moreso than does my brother's demise."

"I'm afraid I don't follow," Bowser said, clearing his throat.

"Assassins are like scalpels, Bowser," said Renoit, pacing now in the modest study he'd brought himself and Bowser into. "We are finely tuned, honed to cut through everything in our path. But like scalpels, we are supposed to be used to prevent catastrophe through subtle, suspicious changes."

Bowser thought on what Renoit said for a few minutes. "So, if I have you right, when the Shadow kills someone, it's in order to prevent something even worse from happening. By leaving no trace, no proof, nobody can claim a feud or point fingers that might escalate into an international incident."

"Precisely," said Renoit. "The Shadow is not just some gathering of murderers. We are the silent, unseen hand guiding the course of events along the best path for the Empire. We do not leave tracks in our wake; at least, not physical ones. Those traces we leave are unavoidable."

"Like paperwork and reports," Bowser said with a grin.

"Yes, exactly so," Renoit replied, raising his tea cup in a casual toast. "You are one of only eight people in the Empire who has a full awareness of us outside of my family or the Shadow itself. Of those eight, you are one of two who figured us out on your own. You should be commended for your intellect and wit."

"Thank you," said Bowser. Renoit went on to tell Bowser about Ardin, a political exile from Mushroom Kingdom who had enlisted in the Gora Army seventeen years earlier. Within weeks he was tested by Shadow agents who saw his potential. He quickly rose through the Shadow's ranks, but after only four years in service, he cut ties and became a freelance spy and assassin.

"We hear whispers, notice events seemingly without explanation, and are able now and again to tie them to him," said Renoit. "There was one incident about seven years back, an entire village in the Fourth went up in flames. We thought it was Ardin's doing, but the local Magistrate had an investigation performed and found it was the fault of Fire Flower seeds being stored in a high-pressure, high-heat weapons cache." Bowser nearly choked on his tea.

"Fourth Magistrate? Was his name Benjamin Godash?"

"Yes, our current First Chair Advisor. Why?" Bowser crushed his tea cup in his hand, and as he bled freely, he began to explain.


	16. Chapter 16- The Rocky Road to Vengeance

Bowser sat up in bed, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He would be turning fifteen the following morning. Almost three years had passed since he and Prince Renoit had shared an evening of explanations and initial planning. The intervening time had seen Dulaha married, the war ground down to a tense and momentary truce, Bowser relocated to Renoit's castle in the Third Magistrate, and a funeral at which Bowser, for the first time in years, had allowed himself tears. Moxy and Trim, two years older than him, had been conscripted and killed on the front lines shortly after his fourteenth birthday.

Of Doko he knew nothing. He assumed the mutant goomba to be trying to eke out a living in the seventh, as his parents had before him. Willow and Rompus remained with him, guardians with a constant eye to his safety. They were brought into the Shadow and made into agents, personally trained by Renoit. The result had been frightening even to Bowser.

Despite many victories, the Empire had been unable to push more than a few hundred miles into the Mushroom Kingdom. The treasury claimed to be hemmoraging money constantly, and friction between different divisions in the army caused problems as well.

Major Edward Meechum had succesfully laid siege to Prince Tangerine's keep, and the Crown Prince was said to be locked away in the dungeons of one of the Empire's castles, though nobody would say which one. Immediately following the capture, Meechum had requested a transfer to Prince Renoit's commission, which was quickly granted.

Meechum had been as a close uncle to Bowser since his arrival, and the mutant koopa, now towering over all when he stood, had felt his constant anger abate some. He was still irritable, prone to violent outbursts, but he had Meechum, Willow, Rompus and Prince Renoit all at his side, advocates for the boy genius whose inventions had provided for their military success.

There were no other children at Renoit's castle, and thus no reason for a conscription officer to come snooping around. Even if one came, Renoit was prepared to issue a decree of exemption, and Meechum had prepared an argument stating that the Empire's great engineer should not be risked on the front lines. It would take the Emperor himself to tear Bowser away from the castle until he wanted to leave.

Bowser quickly showered and readied himself for the day. His thoughts turned toward Ardin, the toadstool assassin. It would be well known that Bowser had been staying with Prince Renoit, even by non-locals. He'd been the subject of several news stories during the last year of the war, so he wouldn't be able to reach out to Ardin himself.

But Ardin was a freelancer, not just an assassin. He would infiltrate and retrieve, if the price was right. Using his connections as Prince, Renoit had arranged for a meeting with Princess Peach and her personal guard. Since Tangerine's capture, she'd been forced to act as representative during audiences and conferences during the cease-fire.

While at his castle, Renoit would make an excuse to leave the room, which would give Bowser the chance to reintroduce himself to her. He would try to play on their previous brief friendship and convince her to contact the assassin to retrieve her brother from Renoit's dungeons. When the toadstool arrived, he would be in for a rude awakening and some hard questions.

The meeting would be held the day after Bowser's birthday.

Bowser decided he didn't want to work on anything that day, so he went down to the workshop Renoit had commissioned for him and his crew and put up his 'No Work Today' sign on the doors. Alejandro, the only workman to make the move to Renoit's castle with him, gave a hoot and holler when he showed up in his kart from the village nearby.

"I'm still getting paid for today's work, right," he asked Bowser.

"Of course. This was my decision, not yours," Bowser replied. Alejandro took off with a smile, bound for home. When Bowser returned to the keep proper, Mason, Renoit's chief of staff, stood just inside the kitchen doorway, waiting for Bowser. A tall, narrow red tribe koopa with pale skin, Mason wore a near-permanent frown, which he turned up at Bowser as the huge koopa walked by. "Mason."

"Master Bowser," Mason replied, pronouncing it 'mawster'. "It occurs to me that your birthday is tomorrow."

"Yup. Funny thing about those, they come around every year."

"How pleasantly droll, sir. Have you arrived at any decision regarding your birthday meal?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"I'd like one."

"Smashing. What would you like to be included?"

"Food."

"Sir."

"Fine, fine," Bowser said with a sigh and a grin. "I'd like some of Mrs. Pettigrew's meatloaf, those cheddar mashed potatoes she makes, and some of those cherry danishes you bake. Oh, and throw in some kind of green vegetable as well, so long as it isn't brussel sprouts."

"Very good sir," Mason said, moving toward the larder. "Coffee?"

"Please." Bowser headed out into the dining chamber, where various plates and bowls of breakfast foods already sat steaming in readiness. Mason poured him a mug of coffee and handed him a plate so he could pick and choose what he wanted. "Mason, has the paper come yet?" Rather than answer, the servant koopa produced it from a nearby cabinet ledge. "Thank you."

As Bowser got halfway through his first article, Prince Renoit and Meechum bustled in, engaged in some heated discussion. Meechum was saying, "-hadn't been for that, we wouldn't be having this conversation!"

"I will concede your point, but you know the exchange had to be done," Renoit countered, taking his seat at the head of the table. He wasn't his usual self, calm and collected, soft spoken. To Bowser's ear, he sounded rattled and annoyed. "We'll just have to adjust the language."

"What's going on," Bowser finally asked. Both older koopas, men for whom Bowser had an eternal place in his heart, looked down awkwardly, as if afraid to meet the eyes of a koopa still a day from official adulthood. That did not bode well. "Meechum?"

"The Emperor agreed to release Tangerine in exchange for the release of Grand Magus Wunderweiss," Meechum said softly. "I'm sorry, Bowser."

"Don't be," Bowser replied quickly, which brought both men's heads up, faces blank. Bowser sipped his coffee and shook his head slightly. "Unless you can tell me that you were personally responsible for the Empire's Grand Magus being captured by human spies of the Mushroom Kingdom because he got drunk with the wrong crowd, leading to the loss of our sole means of countering the Kingdom's most powerful magics, then you have nothing to apologize for. Now, can either of you say that?" They shook their heads. "Okay, then. It's just a bump in the road. I'd still like to see Peach again."

Renoit agreed that a meet would still be good to calm tensions, and perhaps move the two nations further from restarting the war in earnest. Meechum departed then, off to make sure the arrangements were kept. Renoit ate slowly, quietly. At one point he asked, "Why do you still want to see the Princess, my young friend?"

"Because she and I have met briefly a couple of times before," said Bowser. "I am of no caste rank here, Highness. It will be very good, I believe, if the people of our Empire see that such a lowly subject as mysef can gain the attention of the Princess of the Mushroom Kingdom." A serpent's smile slithered across Renoit's face.

"You're quite bright for someone who claims not to listen to his tutors about political science lessons," Renoit said.

"I haven't been. The tutors you've had in have advocated I pay the political process no attention because of my caste. I've been reading Douard's books on the subject, in yourlibrary." Bowser finished his coffee and shook his mug at Mason. "One more, Mason, and then I think I'd like to see the report Bly put together on the Recruitment Officer who's on his way here." Renoit began chuckling, and together they shared one more drink.

When the Recruitment Officer left the castle the following morning, Meechum checked his watch. "Twenty-seven minutes," he said with a laugh. "It only took twenty-seven minutes for him to run that man out of this castle, Highness, and he's a third my age." Prince Renoit, feet up on the desk in his private office on the castle's third floor, grinned and nodded, tossing a rubber ball up and catching it repeatedly.

"He's learned a great deal since coming here," Renoit said. "But he still talks of vengeance against Godash." He held the ball, looked away. "My people in the capital say the Advisor came back from his trip looking younger, stronger than he has in years. Do you suppose," he began, letting the question hang in the air unasked.

"Yes. I think he has the money for it," said Meechum. "The man's never been one for extravagence. He lives in the Heavenly Palace free of charge, dines in the mess in the building, rarely goes on trips. When he does, he either camps out or stays in cheap little dives. He could've been saving for years to afford a few treatments, even before becoming an Advisor."

"If he gets those, then our recommended plan for our young friend will become invalid," Renoit said. "He can't just wait for Godash to die if he's able to keep extending his lifespan."

"Well, let's not tell him just yet," Meechum said. "Let him enjoy these next few days." And so Renoit agreed, though the master of the Shadow didn't forsee the blow being softened by a few days' wait. Yet Meechum was right, he knew. Best to let Bowser have a few good days.

The library of Prince Renoit's castle, unlike those in most of his brothers' keeps, was only single-storied, contained no children's literature, and had a reading nook that was arranged more for academic study and notation than relaxed reading. It was an efficient design with all the charm of a soldier who's just pushed a bayonet into dozens of bodies after battle to ensure his commanding officers that the enemy is, in fact, dead.

Despite this lack of decoration or frill, the library was still where Bowser went to do his deepest thinking, and to write in his journal and do his studies. Renoit had an entire two shelves dedicated to Douard's writings, of which Bowser constantly availed himself. There were only a few that he hadn't re-read, and these were Douard's personal memoires. Bowser had nothing against such material, but something had made him uneasy, uncomfortable, when reading them.

Sitting in the library in silence, a copy of 'The Legend of Pacman' open before him, Bowser looked off, unseeing, into the quiet rows of bookshelves. _It feels like peeping, _he thought quite suddenly. _Like spying on one of my idols. It just seems, wrong. _While he had come to be fond of Meechum, Willow, Rompus and Renoit as a surrogate family, the truth was he _admired _Douard in a way that bordered on hero worship.

"I'll just have to push that aside," he said, grabbing one of his pens from his carry bag and winging it lightly up and over a bookcase in a lazy arc. He heard someone grunt and smiled to himself. "You're getting sloppy, Francois. I heard you adjust your footing five minutes ago." A koopa clad in dark green tunics came slinking out of his hiding spot and approached the table.

"That obvious," Francois asked, sitting across the table from Bowser.

"Wouldn't have been for the average mark. Then again, I'm not the average mark. It's my birthday, you know," Bowser said, marking his spot in his book and closing it. "There's going to be a splendid brunch in a few minutes." He stood up, headed over to Douard's dedicated case, and plucked out one of the memoires, tucking it under his arm with the Pacman book. "You should come to the dining chamber, enjoy some company. You know, socialize."

"I'm not one for that, sir," Francois demured. "I tend to keep to my own devices."

"And that's very well and good," said Bowser, starting away toward the hallway. "Just remember, Francois, that too much time spent only in one's own company can leave one strange." He waved a quick farewell over his shoulder to the Shadow agent and left, heading for brunch.

Dawn shone down on the plains, but inside the maroon canvas tent, nobody would have known. Darkness prevailed, and the figure sleeping on the double-sized folding cot snored softly, content as anyone could hope to ever be while camping. Of course, this individual didn't have to worry about the mundane rituals of breaking down the cot, the tent, or any of the supplies associated with being on the road. This traveler didn't have to cook, though they knew how. Nor did the traveler have to clean, though they knew what was involved.

Being a princess never came with such demands, after all. Peach naturally came awake to the beat of her own circadian rhythm, and when she did, she found herself wanting to go right back to sleep. But she couldn't do that; despite lacking certain areas of responsibility and expectations, she had more than a few other requirements set upon her as Princess of the Mushroom Kingdom.

Clambering out of bed, she quickly got dressed in her light pink dress, which had become a trademark of hers, and lit the portable lamp by her travel vanity. She applied some light makeup and did her necessary, pushing the chamber pot out through a flap at the back of the tent. It was pushed back in by some nameless servant a minute later, and Princess Peach mustered her will, her smile, and her travel cloak before exiting the tent.

The camp had been torn down already, leaving her feeling rather foolish. She'd hoped to be up in time to catch her escorts at their work; once more she was painfully aware of their professionalism. A canvas chair and plate of food were brought to her before she could even speak by toadstool men whose faces were severe and whose eyes promised only strength, of both body and character.

_They serve me, and I am far from their equal in so very many ways, _she thought. Peach sat down and cleared her throat, looking up at her Heart Guard, a title bestowed upon any knight in the Kingdom sworn to the crown's children as their personal retinue's commander. "Dofun?"

"Aye, Princess," he said, a tall toadstool in light chain armor. He wouldn't have stuck out from his comrades, but for the spots on his head cap being red instead of blue or black and his lighter armor.

"Where's Matty?"

"She's busy giving some of my lads fresh Hell for not scouting the roads south."

"We're not going south, we're going west."

"A point I tried to make, mum, but she was having none of it."

"She's hung over again, isn't she?"

"As one might expect, all the extra wine she's had on this trip."

"Cut her rations when she isn't looking," said Peach, tucking into her breakfast as more toadstool men broke down the tent and gear behind her. "Add them to your own if needs be."

"Thank you, mum." Dofun pulled out a small pocket notebook and flipped it open. "There's the village half a day's trek away if we go a little north, head along the main road."

"Father advised we avoid the main road while here in the Empire," Peach replied. "Anyone using the main road risks tarriffs, even residents if they're non-military."

"Don't we have diplomatic status, mum?"

"Yes, and tarriff collectors have armed men and drill tanks. A smile and winning personality amounts to a pair of twos in this particular card game. Best to hedge our bets and stick to the plains." Dofun made a quick 'she has a point' expression, then slunk off to see to Matty's rations of wine.

With luck, they would arrive at the castle village around the time Dofun predicted, putting them only a few hours behind their original schedule. But those few hours would require almost an entire day to make up for once they reached the village attached to Prince Renoit's castle.

She thought about not the Prince, but his semi-permanent guest, the wily engineer who was said to be responsible for the craftily designed war machines that had given Mushroom Kingdom so much trouble. "Bowser," she said wistfully. "It will be good to see you again, my friend."


	17. Chapter 17- Changes

Prince Renoit reviewed the missive again, nodded to himself, and tucked it away in a desk drawer. For the time being, there was nothing to be done for it. He had his orders from Father, and he would see them carried out, even if he didn't like them. He knew his role in this war.

_Timing is everything, _he thought. _I'll give it one full day. _He was just pulling out his roster book when Meechum knocked on the open door and saw himself in. He had donned his finest suit of ceremonial armor, leaving weapons aside for Princess Peach's visit. This was supposed to be a diplomatic meeting, another round of negotiations. Renoit had been asked to handle this meeting as Peach had requested a visit to the Empire's clever master engineer, a young man named Bowser Entem.

He didn't want to tell Bowser anything about the missive, and in the past, he might not have felt any twinge of guilt for withholding information from his comrades. Yet he had become quite fond of the oversized mutant koopa, enough so to find he didn't like keeping quiet. But orders were orders, including the one to stay quiet.

"The Princess will be coming soon, lordship," Meechum said. "I've instructed all but the Shadow agents to disarm and make themselves presentable. Some of the guards are voicing their distaste for the order rather loudly."

"Did they disarm?"

"If by that you mean 'put their weapons out of immediate reach', then yes. But they've tucked them all in hideaways close to hand. They're all tense, nervous, and I don't blame them. Peach has a lot of bodyguards."

"How many will be entering the castle proper?"

"Six," said Meechum. "One of our people in the village has described their movement as a 'compass plus' formation, though I don't know what that means."

"Douard's 'Royal Lights' formation," Renoit said, and Meechum nodded. "I know, this new language is hard to keep up with sometimes." He stood up, stretched his arms behind his back. "Bowser is ready?"

"He is. The head smithy had one hell of a time adjusting the armor for him. Almost scrapped it for the orc armor in the Trophies Room." Meechum snickered, shook his head. "The scary thing is, that would fit perfect." A comfortable silence fell between the two men, a duo that would frankly have never worked together, were it not for the astonishing young man who'd crossed their fates together. Meechum's smile faded. "He's a man now."

"He certainly hasn't been a child in a long time, if ever," Renoit added. "It could be worse. At least he's got wits. All that raw physical power, and the mechanical aptitude. Can you imagine if he had no control of himself?" Meechum shuddered, and took his leave.

When he was gone, Renoit took out the orders from his father and read them again.

Bowser beamed happily as Princess Peach strode forth into the castle's entrance hall, dressed all in pink chiffon and white gloves and heels, her tiara glittering in the light of the chandelier above. Her body man, Dofun, stepped ahead of her and unfurled a tight scroll, clearing his throat.

"Presenting Her Majesty, Princess Peach Anastasia Toadstool, of the Mushroom Kingdom," he read, rolling the scroll back up and stepping aside. Peach strode forth and extended her hand palm-down to Prince Renoit, who took it in courtly fashion and bowed his forehead against it for a moment. Meechum stepped up on his right, Bowser hanging back and to his left.

Meechum said, "And thy host is Prince Renoit Hurin, of the Gora Empire. We are well met here this day." Meechum signaled for Bowser to come forward. "And this young man is the brilliant engineer you also wished to meet during this visit, Bowser Entem."

Bowser bowed as she curtsied, and the entire gathering shuffled off to the main drawing room. Bowser was eager for this visit indeed.

Meanwhile, halfway across the Empire, a refreshed and invigorated Benjamin Godash, despite his magical treatment which made him forty years younger physically, was on the verge of a collosal heart attack. He clutched the sides of his head and paced back and forth, sweating bullets and cursing under his breath like a man raving from hysteria.

It had been a morning like any other, to be begun with a private audience with the Emperor. This had become quite commonplace. He'd had the kitchen put together a cart with two meals, some coffee and cream, some sugar, and wheeled it into the Emperor's bedchambers, again, now commonplace . The curtains were still closed on the fourposter bed, but that too was commonplace.

Finding the Emperor dead was not.

At first glance, the aged koopa looked like he was just lying in quiet contemplation, staring at the top of his bed. But the smell of his bowels, voided in death, and the waxy skin and lack of breath escaping him told Godash the awful truth of things- Emperor Harin was dead.

Blood hammering in his skull, Godash tried to think of what to do. The only mage capable of bringing a man back from the dead that he knew of was Wunderweiss, and the Grand Magus would not be back to the capital for several days yet.

"What do I do," Godash blurted aloud, still pacing. But he already knew what his other options were. He could either report the death at once, or call once more upon a man he did not trust. "Gannondorf," he whispered.

"You rang," rasped an otherworldly voice from the shadows behind him.

Bowser and Peach had been left alone to have their visit before the Princess was to tend to official business, which seemed to please her. She thanked Bowser as he poured her tea and handed her cup and saucer. A swell of peace washed through his mind as he prepared his own and propped one foot up on the opposite knee.

"It has been too long," he said, opening their dialogue. "You've grown into a fine young woman."

"Thank you," she replied. "And you've grown, well, quite a lot!" He chuckled with her, a harmless jape that he'd become used to. She shook her head, eyes downcast. "It's been difficult, this war. I wasn't sure you'd want to see me."

"The war isn't your fault," Bowser said. "You didn't send troops into Tegal Swamps."

"You're right," she replied. "And your war machines wouldn't be necessary if we had tried sooner to make peace. I can't imagine you enjoy making such things." Bowser sipped his tea, taking his own turn to look aside. Peach narrowed her gaze at him. "You don't enjoy it, do you?"

"Well, I have an affinity for machines, and those have been my primary designs since I was drafted to work in this capacity." He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. "I don't think the army needs me designing home appliances."

"True, but your machines are horrifying," Peach said, a hint of disgust in her voice. "Can't you develop something non-lethal for your Empire's soldiers?"

"I probably could, given more time," said Bowser. "I had designed one, a sonic emitter rifle, that would fire a concentrated burst of noise at a specific wavelength that would render humans and toadstools unconscious." Peach visibly brightened a little.

"So what happened to that project?"

"My design requires silver for the main vibration coil," said Bowser evenly. He flapped his hands and deflated a little, shoulders slouching. "We've barely got any deposits of silver left in the Empire. With our financial situation being what it is, we could afford to import some easily enough, but nobody with large amounts will sell to us."

Peach sipped her tea, eyes twitching back and forth in consideration. She softly said, "Hyrule has plenty of silver."

"Which they won't sell to us, because your father sent a delegation over a year ago to arrange for Hyrule to place sanctions on us," Bowser retorted, rather more hotly than he'd intended. Realizing he'd scooted himself to the edge of his seat, he cleared his throat and slid back. "Um, sorry, about uh, growling at you."

Peach smoothed her dress over her lap, pretending to be watching especially closely for any seams. "No, no, it's quite all right," she said, her tone airy, bordering on haughty. "Have you tried any other materials or designs?"

"I've tested numerous other metals," Bowser said with a sigh. "They all failed. As for other designs, I was warned not to waste the Empire's time on any more non-lethal solutions after that first failure."

"So you just gave up," she asked, huffing. "A man of your talents and wit should be able to carry on, find time for it in you schedule!" Bowser sprang from his chair, hands balled into fists, flickers of flames licking out of his nostrils.

"And someone of your station should understand that I _take _orders, not make them! I am a peasant, Princess! I am only in this castle because a noble man took pity on my mother and I when my father was killed!" He stomped a few yards away, folding his arms over his broad chest, back to her. "Do you think I'm enjoying this war, this bloodshed?"

The Princess sighed behind him. "No, I don't. But you must admit, you're very good at making things that kill."

"I know I am. I get reports that compare deaths attributed to my creations stacked against the total dead. Thirty-four percent of your army's dead are on my hands," he rumbled, straining to hold back tears. "One-third of your casualties, Princess."

Peach said nothing for a long time, until Bowser returned to his seat, head in his hands. "I had no idea," she offered.

"I know. I apologize for my temper," he replied, sniffling. "I am, in fact, quite glad to be running out of building materials. If I don't have them, I can stop building things for this war." Bowser slugged down the rest of his tea, poured fresh. "Princess, I have a confession."

"Oh?" She waggled her cup at him playfully, and he once again felt powerfully greatful for her. She may have been born into nobility, but he now saw that she had very few options in life herself. The problem wasn't her; the problem was the caste system.

As he poured her another cup, he pitched his voice low. "I was hoping in truth to be able to trick you before into hiring a freelancer to come here in search of your brother," Bowser said. Peach made a displeased but curious face at him. "Now hear me out. This freelancer is a toadstool, formerly one of our Shadow agents. Have you ever heard of the Impirial Shadow?"

"I haven't, and guess I should be thankful for that," she quipped. "Assassins and spies, I presume?"

"Just so. Anyway, I've determined that he was the one responsible for my mother and Prince Nurik's murders, and have furthermore surmised that he did so at the behest of Advisor Benjamin Godash." The flinch in Peach's eyes when he mentioned Godash did not escape Bowser's notice. "You've heard things about him, I take it?"

"From my father mostly," she said. "He says that of all the political powers in Gora Empire, Ben Godash is the deadliest. There are rumors that he orchestrated the deaths of the two Advisors ahead of him, and that he blackmailed his way into the Third seat in the first place, leveraging his close ties to the Hammer Brothers outfit." She set her cup aside and rose. "So what can this freelancer do for you? Surely you don't intend to have him go after Godash."

"No," Bowser rumbled, his face stretching in a wicked grin. "I intend to have him blackmail the Advisor into taking an audience with the Empire's great war engineer."

"It's so, life-like," Godash said, lip curled in disgust. "This defies every law of the natural order."

"Speaking broadly and in deference to defending my own practices, there are no laws of nature, more like guidelines," Gannondorf said casually from the chamber's corner. He roughly tossed the Emperor's lifeless corpse into the shadows behind him, where it disappeared. "The simulacrum will do whatever you want it to, obey any order that doesn't risk killing it immediately."

"Is that important?"

"These things have no power of reason, so they can be frustrating at times. You wouldn't believe how many people tell these things to go fuck themselves, resulting in-"

"Stop," Godash barked, hand raised. "I've got a pretty good imagination." He planted his hands on his hips, which would have pained him a month ago, but which now felt natural and fine. "How long will it last?"

"Until something actively kills it, or you remove its left ear," Gannondorf said. "You now have control over the entire Empire, and none of the responsibility."

"Wait, warlock," Godash said, leaving the clone's side as it sat there on the bed. The Advisor spoke quietly, only a foot away from the half-breed warlock. "You never named your price for this boon. What is it you want?"

Gannondorf seemed to ponder this a minute, rubbing his dagger-like chin. "Hmm. Who is your Empire's greatest architectural mind?"

"Simple, that would be Kitash Mito."

"Does he have an apprentice or heir apparent?"

"Yes, Himeo Jokal. Why?"

"Mr. Jokal disappeared tonight, no trace, no explanation," said Gannondorf, sliding back toward the shadowed corner. "Do you understand me?" Godash swallowed hard, nodded. "You're wondering how I heard you calling for me, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"You took my Coin, Benjamin," Gannondorf said, fading out of view into the darkness. "I will always hear you when you have my Coin." And then the warlock was gone, and Benjamin Godash was in control of the mighty Gora Empire.

Long live the Emperor.


	18. Chapter 18- Mighty Words

Bowser waved as the Princess and her company headed off toward the Warp Zone, one which would take them just back inside Mushroom Kingdom's western border. If Peach could deliver on her end, then he would get a little closer to his goal of vengeance. He knew Ardin couldn't get at Godash, even as skilled as he was. The Shadow always kept four to six agents beyond Renoit's direct command, by order of the Emperor, to serve in the Heavenly Palace. The toadstool freelancer was good, but he couldn't escape the notice of six such agents.

A ballistic assault wouldn't work either, between guards, wizards and the Hammer Brothers stationed in the capital. But Ardin had knowledge of Godash's activities, and that could be leveraged. The overgrown koopa mutant thought on this as he headed inside.

Once back in the castle, he was met by Mason in the entry hall. "Master Bowser, your presence is requested in the library," the chief of staff said.

"By whom?"

"The major," Mason replied, veering off down an east-wing hallway as Bowser reached the north wing doors off of the entry hall. Usually, Mason would have accompanied Bowser after delivering such a message. This break from his normal behavior signaled to Bowser that something was amiss.

Mentally preparing himself for a wide array of tough conversational gambits with Meechum, he headed to the major's office on the ground floor. It took him only a few minutes to get to Meechum's door, which stood open a crack. Bowser pushed the door open, knocking as he did so.

He discovered Meechum staring down at a fabric map of the continent of Famicom, rolled out over his desk. He'd begun placing some figurines on the map, but only a few. Bowser cleared his throat lightly, snagging the yellow shelled koopa's attention. "Ah, Bowser," Meechum said vacantly, still in thought about his map. "Please, shut the door and come sit."

With the door closed, Bowser lowered himself gingerly into the chair across from Meecum and raised one fiery red eyebrow at him. "You wanted to see me?"

"I did indeed." Meechum began taking more figures from a box behind him and arraying them on the map. Each was remarkably detailed, little koopas and toadstools and old-fashioned war machines, horses, and mages of both races. Bowser took the translation immediately- each figure represented a full unit of fifty men for the grunts, and less for the specialized groups. He'd seen Meechum map campaigns before.

"Sir?"

"Just one more minute," Meechum replied. He positioned several more units, then stopped. "I've received orders from the capital to take command of the 17th Infantry in the northern end of the front," Meechum said, pointing to a figurine of a koopa with helmet, sword and shield. "I am to take this unit five miles east, then turn directly south and gather up other units and platoons until meeting up with the 2nd Infantry, here," he said, pushing his first figurine until it stood next to one just like it. "Once there, I am to await further instruction."

"So, you'll be leaving again," Bowser said, quirking his mouth into an annoyed pout. "It's never the same when you're not here, you know."

"I know, and I'm sorry. But I am a sworn soldier of this Empire. Now," Meechum said, flapping his hand at the map. "I don't recognize this kind of cease-fire troop movement from any of Douard's writings on warfare. Am I forgetting something here?"

Bowser searched his memory quickly, then shook his head. "No. This isn't Douard. This is Spicer."

"Spicer? I've never even heard of him," Meechum said.

"Few have. He was a military advisor and warfare philosopher, very popular about forty years ago. He died a couple of years before I was born. Those who know his work call him the 'anti-Douard', constantly contradicting Douard's combat theories. The army has only ever used four or five of hi manuevers."

"What's this one called?"

"'The Pitchfork'. It's designed for abrupt aggression to end cease-fires and bombard enemy forces by first appearing to consolidate for a retreat, while quietly moving a replacement force into the moving unit's former position. Then, three prongs strike hard and fast, the flanking posts empowered by a suddenly swollen central force. Meechum," Bowser said, legs shaking nervously. "The Emperor is about to kill a lot of people."

"I assumed the Emperor would have told you about my plan," Wunderweiss said, dressed in a clean, freshly pressed set of robes. "Of course, he did seem a little out of it." Godash sat in the lounge just off of the main mess hall, a plate of crumbs before him. While searching the Emperor's chambers, he'd come across a journal containing the conversations he'd had with his Grand Magus, including one labeled 'Operation: Bait and Switch'. "Allow me to go over it in brief."

"Of course," Godash said. The entry in the journal had been little more than a few vague lines about letting the Mushroom Kingdom 'capture' a valued target to trade for Prince Tangerine. The Emperor may have been dying, but his mind had still been sharp.

"Having my magical prowess allowed me to lay spell traps within the front borders of the Kingdom, if I could just get through. So, we leaked information about my visiting a unit mage on the northern edge of our lines, and I was 'captured' by enemy forces. So, you see, once I was escorted to the nearest village for questioning, I began laying the groundwork for a trigger curse, one I could set up and then activate at my leisure. It was laborious, having to restrain the flow of my magic as to be undetected."

"So, they have no idea?"

"None. After a few days, a 'rescue unit' was sent to come for me, but they were noticed and I was moved further east. All in all, I've got eleven villages set up for some nasty curses, including Orful, which is only a day from the Royal City and Palace."

"They weren't going to risk letting the Grand Magus any closer," Godash said plainly. "I see."

"Yes. It didn't take long for me to convince my wardens that I'd be worth the return of Prince Tangerine." Wunderweiss sipped at a glass of sweet tea and sighed with simple pleasure. "Which brings us to the last bit."

"Oh?"

"Yes. You see, once the Prince crosses back into Mushroom Kingdom, the Emperor will send Shadow agents to dispatch him. They're already tailing his caravan." Godash sputtered coffee; the sheer brutality of the Emperor's mind still stunned him at times. "It was the final part of the plan."

"He thinks of everything, doesn't he," said Godash.

"He still has it in him, yes," said Wunderweiss. "Can't be for too much longer, though. Five, six years at most."

"Well, we have to make the most of that time, then," said Godash. In his mind, he danced a little victory jig.

Throwing back the sheets, Bowser sat up on the edge of his bed, unable to sleep. He knew Spicer's strategems inside and out, just as he knew Douard's. Using 'The Pitchfork' could work at times, but the Mushroom Kingdom would have to already be reeling from something else to not realize what was happening.

They'd seen it once before, after all.

"Something else will happen first," he muttered to the darkened room. "A disaster, something to pull their focus away." Bowser knew that logically speaking, he should be thrilled that his home country was looking at coming out on top. He considered himself a loyal subject, even if he did disagree with the Empire's caste system. Yet he found himself wanting to warn the Mushroom Kingdom somehow, to tell them they were about to be duped.

If he sent a missive to Princess Peach, would it reach her before it was too late? Taking no chances, Bowser climbed out of bed and took up a pen at his writing desk in his bedchamber. If he was going to do this, the time was now, before he lost his nerve.

If anyone knew what he was doing, he could be charged with treason and jailed. But this was the right thing to do, he knew as much in his heart. He was no pacifist, but the line had to be drawn somewhere. His machines had killed thousands, and the notion of not intervening to save lives would only leave him feeling even worse.

And so he wrote, putting aside the feeling of guilt over helping the Kingdom. What sense was there in being loyal if it made you feel like a monster at the same time?

Prince Tangerine remained quiet as he rode along in the back of his wagon, trying to think of what to tell his father. Being imprisoned alone would not have changed him any as a man. Sharing a dungeon with koopas and goombas who'd spoken out against the war did.

One prisoner in particular, whose cell had been across the hall from his, had caused the greatest impact on his thinking. When Tangerine was first brought to the Heavenly Palace and thrown in the dungeons, he was beaten savagely, dragged around his cell and punched, kicked and elbowed about until his face felt like so much raw hamburger. When the laughing guards left, his neighbor across the corridor came to the bars of his own cell.

"One hell of a welcome wagon," the koopa said, an older red tribe man in robes that matched his shell. "Most of us in this wing of the dungeon don't get that much attention." Tangerine sat up with a grunt, and spat out blood from gums split by fists. "My word," breathed the koopa. "You're Prince Tangerine!"

"Astute observation," the Prince rumbled, slumping sideways against the bars. He looked off through the bars that divided his cell from those on either side of his, and saw he had an audience. His bunk and toilet were flush against the rear wall, partial concrete side walls offering a small measure of privacy from his immediate neighbors. It was then that he realized he was the only human present, and there were no toadstools. "I see only koopas and goombas here."

"Astute observation," replied the elder koopa. Tangerine looked over, saw that he wore a wry grin. He scowled at the older man. "Oh, come now, you know you had that coming," the koopa said playfully, a laugh just under the surface. Much to his own surprise, Tangerine snorted a short laugh.

"Yeah, I suppose I did."

"This part of the dungeon is reserved for political prisoners," the older koopa said. "We're usually treated well enough here, though we hear some awful noises from down around the corridor's bend. That's where the females are locked up." Tangerine shuddered to think of what he might hear in the night, and what it would imply.

"What is thy name, old dad," Tangerine asked, spitting aside blood and climbing to his feet.

"I'm called Father Time by my fellows down here," the koopa replied. "Or just 'Elder', as is custom when a group designates a post of honor based on age and experience."

"You don't want anyone to know who you are, I take it," Tangerine said.

"Just so." There had been little further conversation that day, but over the course of weeks, Father Time and the other prisoners shared with the Prince their frustrations with the Empire and its internal policies. Father Time spoke as one who had been an administrative insider, though he was always crafty when speaking of his own experiences, so as not to tip his hand about his identity. Tangerine found his shrewdness and conversational cunning marvelous.

While the others listened, the Prince and Father Time debated economic philosophies, societal isses, and military tactics. It was during one of these talks three days before his release that Prince Tangerine realized who he'd become companions with- the great Douard.

He knew it was him, but said nothing to anyone about it. When he realized the koopa was Douard, his entire view of how the Empire worked shifted. Here was a man who had once effectively run the entire military, yet had only commanded a single short campaign (and a brilliant one at that), who was as anti-aggression as one could be in such a post, and he'd been thrown in prison. Why didn't anyone know this?

"Because they would revolt," he muttered to himself as the wagon slowed to a stop. "If the people knew, they'd revolt against their own government." One of his escort guards poked his head in through the flap at the back.

"Too dark out now to carry on, Majesty," said the toadstool from behind his helmet visor. "We'll make the border in three days, unless we can be granted access to a warp zone."

"Very good," said Tangerine. "No need to make me a tent. I'll rough it back here." The guard saluted and went away, leaving Prince Tangerine to contemplate his next move. He could disrupt the entire Empire with a single fact, open the door for a crushing victory for the Mushroom Kingdom. But he couldn't do it himself. Thrusting his head back through the flap, he called out, "Guard!" One of his men came moments later, weapon held ready. "Sheathe that, and grab me a pen and parchment from your gear. This is a task for the mightier," he said with a wolfish smile.

He wouldn't have to engage the Empire in open warfare if he could help install a new government in the wake of an uprising. It would remain a separate nation, but why not make it one that served its people, as one led by Douard or someone like him would be?

The guard returned, and Tangerine wrote by the light of an oil lamp in the wagon, 'Dear Father'.

Two messenger birds flew in the early pre-dawn hours. One carried word from a loyal son to his father. One carried word from a young man to a friend. Humble little creatures, these, harmless things paid no heed. Yet on their legs rested the fate of not one, but two nations.

The lands of Famicom were about to undergo some changes.


	19. Chapter 19- Falling Apart

No sooner had Princess Peach sent the freelancer Ardin off on his contracted assignment than she received a messenger bird carrying Bowser's warning. He didn't know exactly what was going to happen, only that it would come from ambush, breaking the cease-fire.

She commanded Dofun to rally the caravan and make haste toward the capital, formulating a letter of her own for her father to send ahead. She only hoped it and she would return home before the cease-fire could be broken.

Bowser felt Meechum's absence as a tangible thing, a slick oiliness in the air which clung to his leathery flesh. It was early morning yet, and he had only slept a few hours after sending off his letter to Peach. With Renoit already tending to affairs of the Shadow, he was left to his own devices.

For the time being, he wanted only to sit in quiet contemplation of one of Douard's memoires in his bed chamber, sitting near the fireplace in an armchair modified to accommodate his size and shell spikes. Anything else might well strike him as unnecessary, given the gravity of events on their way. He accepted that even if his letter should get to Peach in time, and her father figured out a counter to the Pitchfork maneuver, the results were going to be monumental.

As he sat reading about Douard's first council with Emperor Harin, Shadow agents were poised to strike against Prince Tangerine.

It had been a perfectly innocent observation made by one of the archers in Tangerine's escort that alerted him to the hostiles nearby. A toadstool man, he was taller than most, and he mentioned that it was strange the way a few spots in the high grass north of their mid-morning camp weren't swaying in the breeze. A quick order whispered to the unit's lone mage revealed that yes, there were three men out in the high brush, koopas remaining completely motionless.

"Impirial Shadow," Tangerine snarled in the wagon, scowling at his mage. "I should have known they agreed to the exchange too quickly. What are our options?"

"Well, sire, I only know a little about the Shadow," the mage replied shakily. "Our horses won't be able to outrun them, for starters. Even if we had karts, we'd likely not be able to keep our distance. They utilize strange arcane arts to run as swiftly as the average kart, you see. As for matching them with brute combat, we would be at a distinct disadvantage here with all the high grass to take cover within."

"Any magical options?"

"Actually, yes," said the toadstool with an impish grin. "A few. Yet one specific one comes to mind." The mage unslung his rucksack from his back and opened it, pulling out a small wooden box from within. "I'd been saving this for a dire emergency," he said, reverently prying the lid open. Light glimmered out from within, illuminating the wagon's covered interior. "I believe this qualifies. I'd be honored if you made use of it, lordship."

Prince Tangerine marveled at the object in the box, his hand reaching to one side for a spare sword.

Daniel and his brothers took great pride in their status as members of the Shadow, though they couldn't exactly share that information with anyone freely. When the Emperor had assigned them the task of following and dispatching Prince Tangerine upon his crossing back into Mushroom Kingdom, they'd all wanted to gloat to their kinsmen about it. But Daniel had wrangled his brothers back and reminded them that they could not even share this with the great Prince Renoit, the great Shadowcaster.

They all knew that magic had been sent in their direction, but they held position. Without knowing the precise nature of this magic, they could do nothing. The silent, motionless state of readiness was to hold.

However, when someone from the caravan began to approach, weapons slid without a sound from padded sheathes. Whoever it was, they made no effort to conceal their purpose. Daniel thought back to Shadowcaster Renoit's lessons; _if the target has spotted you, charge, and scream while you do. No one expects a sneak to scream._

So Daniel broke cover and charged, hollering like a man possessed, twin knives held out to his sides. He could just make out Prince Tangerine, and as he closed the gap and swung in an 'X' strike, his eyes beheld his folly. His weapons snapped uselessly against the human's glowing, flashing flesh, and his right arm swung out in an upward slice.

He'd used an Invincibility Star.

Daniel's last vision in life was seeing his slayer raise his blade for one more blow.

The following morning, as he roamed the quiet halls of Prince Renoit's castle, Bowser found himself contemplating a portion of Douard's memoir that he'd spent the previous day reading through. In it, the notable scholar spoke of a trip he took to Hyrule, to the north, in order to study the culture of the orcs, trolls and goblins who lived on the fringes of the kingdom's society. In an orc village, he'd come across a curious student of magic, a half-orc man by the name of Gannondorf. He'd been brought to meet him when asking about the different schools of magic employed among the greenskin races.

Magic, Gannondorf informed Douard, had been largely lost to the greenskins over the course of a dozen generations. He had proven an affinity for it as a child, however, when idly repeating the conjurations of a local healer, resulting in the spell the healer had been trying to cast finally issuing from the boy. The wounded orc in question had been the son of the tribe's leader, and when word got back to him of what young Gannondorf had done, he was immediately sent to study with the tribe's foremost practitioner.

Bowser knew the name, and knew as well that the warlock had been deemed an enemy of the Crown in Hyrule. He wondered briefly if such a man might be able to help bring an end to the war. As he returned to his bedchamber to continue reading, he found himself asking aloud, "What can you do for us, Gannondorf?"

In a pouch on his nightstand, a single Coin trembled.

Prince Renoit sat before the mirror in his private study on the third floor of the castle, a chamber where not even Mason was allowed, scowling at the First Advisor. The use of this mirror for immediate dialogue regarding matters of the Shadow had been his father's idea. As a clandestine organization within the Empire's government, the risk of having certain information fall into the wrong hands was too great.

He scowled, however, not because the mirror was being used, but because it was not his father using it. "Advisor Godash," Renoit said evenly. "My father doesn't let others use this mirror, ever. Why are you before me?"

"The Emperor is ill, Prince Renoit, quite ill. I have been authorized to speak with you," Benjamin Godash, looking much younger than he had in a long time, began. He held up a parchment to his own mirror. "As you can see, this writ has been prepared for your scrutiny." Renoit scanned the short writ of authority, and to his chagrin, recognized his father's sloppy handwriting.

"I affirm," Renoit said with a sigh. "What may I do for the Gora Empire?"

"As Shadowcaster, it is your agreed duty to provide at all times six Shadow operatives to the Heavenly Palace. Three of these have been slain in the field during an operation. As such, three replacements are required." Renoit did not outwardly react, reining in his surge of outrage. In his mind's hallways, however, colorful expletives from various languages echoed about.

"What happened?"

"That is not your concern," said Godash dismissively.

"Per my arrangement with Emperor Harin, in the Duties and Capacities section of the Shadow Charter, when any Shadow agent or operative is slain in the field, regardless of post, it is within my rights as Shadowcaster to receive full knowledge of what said operatives were engaged in doing at the time of their death, including missions issued from the Heavenly Palace." Renoit watched as Godash's left cheek twitched ever so slightly, eyes flitting subtly back and forth.

"Ahem," Godash said, fist before his mouth as he cleared his throat. "In following with a plan hatched by the Emperor and Grand Magus Wunderweiss, the agents were following Prince Tangerine, that they might assassinate him once he returned to Mushroom Kingdom territory. However, the Prince, it is believed, got the drop on them, as it were. A unit of infantry on their way back from the front last night found the bodies, half a day after coming across Tangerine's caravan."

"Wunderweiss's capture was a fraud, wasn't it," Renoit asked, a int of a smile in his voice. "I always did like him. He's clever."

"Indeed he is," said Godash. "Now, about those agents?"

"I'll have three men sent to you post-haste, Advisor," Renoit said. "In the future, may I suggest sending a different lakitu to deliver messages to check this mirror? This one was young, could barely handle his cloud."

"Duly noted." The mirror fogged over, and moments later, reflected the room once more. Renoit had received the notice about his men being sent after Tangerine, but Godash didn't know about it. Had he known, he would have refused to reveal such information to Renoit. As such, either his father hadn't brought Godash into his innermost trust, or Godash was up to something he ought not to be.

"What's your secret, Ben," he rasped to the mirror.

Upon returning from breakfast to discover a cloaked man looking in his closet, Bowser took the heavy tome in his hands and closed it silently, preparing to hurl it like a throwing axe at the would-be intruder. He cocked his arm back, and the newcomer said, "I wouldn't," one finger raised in a 'tut-tut' position. Bowser kept his arm cocked back.

"Who are you," Bowser asked of the man, whose voice had sounded civilized enough.

"I've had a few names over the course of my life," the man said, walking his fingers over the coats and sweaters hanging in the closet. "Orc King, Savior of the Greenskins, warlock, madman, enemy of the state. However, you know me as," he said, turning and pulling back his hood, then bowing formally at the waist, "Gannondorf."

Bowser took in the warlock's features, noting the knife-like nose, the crimson hair, and the thick, heavily scarred hands. He tossed the book on his bed casually and lumbered around to the foot of it, sitting down. He stood a good two inches taller than the warlock, yet felt dwarfed by his presence. "What are you doing here," the mutated koopa asked.

"You called for me," the half-orc man said, reaching out one hand toward the writing desk, its chair rolling toward him by way of his magic.

"I did no such thing," Bowser huffed.

"I heard you," Gannondorf said, sitting down at an angle to Bowser. He pointed lazily over at the nightstand and waggled one long finger back and forth. Bowser heard a rattling, and turned his head, watching as a single Coin wiggled itself free of the money pouch he'd left there. It rolled onto the floor, then continued all the way around to the warlock's foot. "You see, this is one of the many, many thousandsof Coins I gave to your Empire in exchange for the services of one of your finest architectural minds. If my name is invoked near one, I can hear it, and bring myself to the Coin's location."

"That sounds like powerful magic," Bowser said.

"It isn't really," Gannondorf said casually. He flapped one hand as if at a slow-buzzing fly. "Just a minor enchantment and a binding. Now, most folk who call for me want something, and if you do, I hope you'll keep it brief, young Bowser. I've a curse to cast on a Princess up north, and shortly thereafter, a kingdom to rule."

Bowser did not like or trust this man, and wondered if he'd been so pompous when Douard had met him all those many years ago. _Probably not. Douard wouldn't have suffered such a man. _Keeping a neutral expression and tone, Bowser said, "I'd like to know what you can do to help bring this war to a stop."

"Honestly?" Gannondorf grinned, but there was no warmth in it. "Nothing. The war is about to be over all on its own."

"You sound very certain of that," Bowser said.

"Because I am certain of it. The Empire-Kingdom war will close in the coming days, and a whole new one will begin, a civil war right here in Gora Empire." The warlock rose from his seat and stretched, cat-like. "Yes, there will be some damage to Mushroom Kingdom, thanks to traps laid by Wunderweiss, but it will be minor, and the Mushroom Kingdom will chalk it up to a final desperate act. Then, they'll sit back and watch this country swallow itself like the Uroboros."

Bowser felt the urge to breath fire on the half-orc rising, but with an effort, he quashed it. "You are precisely the sort of liar people say you are. If you can do nothing, then I have no need of you here."

"Now just a moment, boy," Gannondorf snarled, his tone now feral, eyes narrowed as he swooped in close, nose pressed against Bowser's rounded snout. "Nobody dismisses me! If it is truth you want, I shall give you three of them. In exchange, you will allow me to look into your future, for one cannot do so without the subject's permission, and very few ever grant me that. Do we have a deal?"

Bowser, still tempted to cuff this man with a short punch, grunted, and instead offered his hand. Gannondorf took it, then peered deep into Bowser's eyes, the half-orc's turning jet black. Bowser felt unseen hands pawing through his mind, a sensation he could only qualify as 'violating'. It lasted only moments, and left Gannondorf staggering away, gasping for breath. He sat down heavily on the rolling desk chair, his angle bad, and promptly fell off with a thud.

"Hope that hurt," Bowser snapped, clutching his throbbing head. But he heard snickers issuing from the warlock, and Gannondorf just adjusted his legs, sitting Indian-style on the floor.

"Oh, it is as I thought it would be, yes," said the warlock with a serpent smile. "I've been keeping an eye on you for some time, Bowser. Didn't you wonder how I knew your name?"

"Hardly seemed relevant."

"Oh, but it is. You see, this is your first truth. Your parents could not conceive. They'd tried for years, and finally, they tracked me down for magical aide. You are what you are because my elixir allowed your mother to become pregnant." Bowser flinched, looked away. He could tell that Gannondorf was not lying. "You were my greatest experiment, Bowser. I had no idea how my new formula would perform, not until you came along."

"Move on, warlock," Bowser said testily. "Give me another truth."

"Your much-loved Douard sits in the dungeons of the Heavenly Palace, a political prisoner," Gannondorf said, laughter threaded like venom in his words. "The Emperor signed off on the warrant without even reading it two years ago. Advisor Godash tired of his seditious speeches and papers, so he drafted a writ of arrest, and the old man was jugged."

Bowser got up from the bed and kicked his nightstand, unable to hold in his fury wholly. If he didn't vent it, it would grow into rage and consume him.

"And your final truth, boy, is this," Gannondorf said, his voice a harsh whisper in the overgrown koopa's ears. "The Emperor is dead. In his place is a simulacrum, one I constructed when asked. The man who asked, who now is the de facto ruler of your Empire? First Advisor Benjamin Godash."

A wordless roar ripped through the bedchamber, accompanied by the warlock's dark laughter, and soon followed by the sounds of wanton destruction of furniture. The rage that Gannondorf had told the Entems would inform their son's behavior had finally come to maturity.

And nothing would quench that rage for a long time.

Prince Tangerine and his caravan almost walked right into the trap laid by Wunderweiss just inside the boundary of the Mushroom Kingdom, headed straight for Ashlon, a plains village known for growing corn and tomatoes. However, half a mile distant, his caravan mage blurted out that they should stop, and Tangerine called a halt immediately.

"A curse has been awakened here, sire," the toadstool mage said, sitting next to the Prince on the wagon's driver bench. "I recognize it. It's the Devouring Curse, and unless we want the locals to try to eat us, or discover our own sudden taste for flesh, we would do well to avoid Ashlon." So the caravan had been ordered to turn north and go around the village.

This helped for the most part, but several townspeople had wandered out of the village and come after them. Archers quickly put paid to those unfortunate souls.

It was three hours before they reached the next town, Balwood, which was deemed unafflicted by the mage. Prince Tangerine took the time, after requisitioning a room at one of the town's inns, to head to the constabulary and order the local sherriff to send a posse to subdue the residents of Ashlon, preferrably in a non-lethal manner.

He was about to head back to the inn when he realized he hadn't yet sent word to his father about the assassins he'd encountered. He'd received no return message, but then, he hadn't expected one. If he sent word ahead about the Shadow, would his father want him to change course and lead a counter-assault? Probably not, given the first letter. His father was well-loved by the people, but the man was a politican at his core. He would already be at work getting word to the Empire's citizenry about Douard.

Still, stopping one assassination attempt didn't mean more wouldn't be forthcoming. He went to the inn and gave his guards clear instructions regarding securing the building. Reasonably certain things would be fine, he went to his room and laid down on a real bed for the first time in longer than he cared to think about.

When he came to later, his men would have much to tell him.

Meechum watched as his picket guards listened to the traveler, and though he could not hear his words, he could see plain the effect his words were having on his men. Hands clenched into fists, heads shook, legs stiffened. Bad news had come, and he hadn't even yet gotten his company on its way south.

When one of his sergeants hurled his helmet to the ground, Meechum sprang forth, easing past clutches of green and red tribe koopas until he reached the picket. "Sergeant," Meechum snapped, scooping up the helmet and shaking it at the other koopa. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Forgive his anger, sir," said the traveler quietly. "It is shared with us all, and most of your company, I should think."

"What ill news have you brought, friend, that would engender us to behave so," Meechum asked.

"It is Douard, major," said one of the other soldiers, a corporal. "He is imprisoned in the Heavenly Palace for speaking against the war." Meechum took a half step back, as if slapped.

"Surely this is not so," he said weakly. "I served Prince Nurit beside the great Douard. He does not belong in prison. Surely this is some hateful rumor."

"Nay, sir, it is not a lie," said the traveler. "I have heard it spoken by another who was jailed with him." Meechum's mouth hung slack, his thoughts jumbled. How could the Emperor order Douard jailed, especially when he was such a universal rally point for the Gora Empire?

"A political prisoner," Meechum said flatly. He shook his head, anger slowly rising within him. "Traveler, what is thy name?"

"Corbin, sir. Phil Corbin."

"Go your way in peace, Phil Corbin, and let all you see know of this injustice," Meechum said. "Sergeant, gather the other officers and bring them to my tent."

"Sir?"

"We have a new mission to undertake," said Meechum. He reached up to the patch on his left surcoat sleeve, the sigil of the Empire, and roughly tore it free, casting it aside. "We are no longer of the Impirial Army. We serve the people, and those people would neevr sit idly by with our nation's greatest elder in stocks."

Within an hour, the entire company had divested itself of their seal patches, leaving an empty field littered with the sigil of the Gora Empire.

Renoit stared at the wreckage beside Mason, who stood silently with his hands folded over his waist. "This does not bode well," Renoit said.

"Once more you bless us with your mastery of understatement, sire."

"Not now, Mason." Renoit glared at his chief of staff darkly. He strode over to the remains of Bowser's writing desk, poking shards of charred wood with one foot. "Where is he now?"

"The workshop, tinkering with something," Mason replied. "I've gone ahead and readied grennil powder in the ventilation, if you think it's necessary."

"Not yet," said Renoit. He shook his head, pinched the ridge of snout between his eyes. "I have always known he could snap. It was always there, lurking just under the surface."

"I know."

"And Edward knew it too," Renoit continued. "He loves Bowser like his own, but he knew what he was capable of. Willow and Rompus, they've always kept a close eye on him. It was they who fetched you, yes?"

"Aye, lordship. We heard the tones of another speaking with master Bowser, but when he left, we found no evidence of another person present, aside from a trace of magic. It was, familiar, to me."

"Oh?"

"I shan't say the warlock's name, for if he left any talisman, it will respond to its utterance," said Mason. "But you know of him. A half-orc, from Hyrule." Renoit nodded, turning about and leading Mason away from Bowser's bedchamber. "Where are we going, sire?"

"To the workshop."

Bowser tightened down one final bolt, setting his tools aside finally and holding the weapon on his lap, staying as still as he could. He tried to clear his mind, but the whirlwind of rage that swept his thoughts into a jumble kept knocking his calm aside like a fractious dog.

He suspected someone had overheard his rampage, and expected that at any moment Mason or Renoit would come to speak with him, try to find out what was wrong. He had no intention of lying to either of them.

When the workshop door did creak open, pure instinct shot him to his feet, rifle held up, aimed at the door. Prince Renoit stood there, hands held high over his head. Right behind him stood Mason, also with hands raised. Bowser sighed, the sight of these two men, wonderful caretakers to him, working far better to calm him than any mental exercise.

He lowered the rifle and waved them in. "Come, please. Neither of you ever needs fear harm from my quarter," he said. He sat back down at his workbench, setting the weapon down. Renoit pulled up a stool across from him, while Mason remained standing off to one side, hands behind his back. "Prince, do you trust me?"

"Of course," Renoit replied immediately.

"And you would know if I was lying to you, or didn't really believe what I was saying at any point, right?" Renoit nodded, and Bowser took a deep breath, let it out slowly. "A warlock came to me, named-"

"We know," said Mason abruptly. "Speak not his name, lest you're sure he has no talismans here."

"Then I shall call him simply Gannon," said Bowser. "You know of whom I speak. I accidentally called for him while ruminating upon the current crisis. When he came, he offered me three truths, in exchange for permission to look into my future."

"Permission," Renoit asked, looking to Mason.

"It's an old law of magic, sire. A seer must have permission to look into a specific person's future. Please, master Bowser, go on."

Bowser looked down at the floor, and relayed to them his encounter in full with the half-orc warlock. When he was finished, Renoit was shaking his head slightly. "I knew Godash was hiding something. Father would never let someone else use that mirror."

"So, you believe Gannon as well?"

"I do," said Renoit. "With father dead, Joren becomes Emperor as the eldest son living. Of course, a simulacrum created by Gannon will be nigh-on impossible to prove a falsehood. And with so many people loyal to Douard in this country, we may very well be looking at the civil war Gannon warned of."

"What do we do, then," Bowser asked. "If the army divides in a rebellion, where will we stand?"

"Well, we need to try and convince Joren that he is the rightful ruler, that our father has been replaced with a simulacrum," said Renoit. "That won't be easy. He's a well-meaning koopa, but my eldest brother is an idiot, put plainly."

"Until that can be done, we needs must continue to serve the Empire," Mason broke in abruptly. Bowser blinked rapidly at the koopa butler, stunned by his stern tone. "The Shadow serves the Throne which casts it."

"Mason," Bowser began.

"He is my Second," said Renoit, eyes fixed on Mason.

"He's the butler," Bowser cried out, coming up off of his stool, pointing one claw at the dapper koopa.

"That's how he's supposed to appear, yes," said Renoit. "Only the Shadowcaster and Emperor ever know who the Second is. My Second and I do not always agree on the course of action the Shadow should take, however."

"Clearly."

"Mason, knowing that the First Advisor is governing by way of a sham, you would stand by the Throne," Renoit asked, sliding off of his seat.

"It is the way of the Shadow to serve the Throne always," Mason replied. "If you side with any rebellion, no matter how long or how righteous, it is my duty to replace you, sire." All of this Mason spoke without a change in his hirsute, officious manner. Bowser could not contain his thoughts.

"Prattle on about the Throne all you wish, Mason, but without the acceptance of rule by the people, that Throne is just a fancy chair," he snarled.

"Your opinion is irrelevant in this matter, master Bowser, both as a civilian and as a member of your rank," Mason replied. Bowser's hands balled into fists, his claws threatening to cut into the flesh of his palms.

"Barring Joren's acceptance of truth, Mason, I will not stand by the Throne," said Renoit. "As is my right as Shadowcaster, I challenge you now to a duel." He took several steps away from the faux-butler, his stance loose. "As the challenged, you have the right to set the prize."

"Very well," said Mason. "The prize is the title of Shadowcaster. I also am obliged, as the challenged, to chose my weapon first." He drew from his waistband a long, wicked blade, its edge glowing green. "And your weapon, Shadowcaster?"

Renoit smiled like a madman. "Bowser."

Even when all seems to be lining up nice and proper, there is ever an element of the random and chaotic in life, events taking place which render void certain well laid plans and plots. Sometimes a life story must take an abrupt turn, all because unexpected developments transpire.

The Bullet Bill would be hailed for years to come as one of Bowser's greatest creations, though they had their detractors. Most of those were survivors who'd barely escaped death after being struck by errant Bullet Bills. Those who did not survive clearly could not object.

For one toadstool, a lengthy career spent on the knife's edge of life and death, circumstances had taken a decided turn for the worse when one such stray projectile struck him clear from his horse. He'd survived countless battles, escaped scores of heated melees in order to return while his foe slept to slip a dagger between ribs and take victory under the cover of stealth.

Ardin lay bleeding in the scrub grass eight miles from the war front, a gaping hole in his lower left abdomen sucking in all the pain the universe could feed it. He grimaced as he tried to reach up to one of his saddlebags, dangling just a foot beyond his reach on his horse's flank. It stood dumbly cropping grass while its master strugged to hang onto life, blissfully unaware of how close it had come to death's front step.

The toadstool assassin moaned as the animal stepped away for better fare in the greenery, fell back flat on the ground. The only thing about war that ever seemed to hold true was this- in war, chaos reigned supreme, and men died. For Ardin, death came not in the glory of combat, but in the banal, daily truth of 'things just happen'.

He perished moments later.


	20. Chapter 20- Rebel Yell

He'd never thought it would go as far as it did, but when Prince Renoit considered Bowser's background, he realized he should have given the mutant koopa an instruction or two about restraint. Mason had been reduced to a pile of scorched, torn and shredded meat, his shell cracked in half and tossed to one side of the workshop. Bowser stood panting over the ramins, holding a vicious stab wound on his right side, just above his hip. The antidote Renoit gave him was already causing the poison to stream out of the injury.

"How do you feel," the Prince asked.

"Like shit," Bowser replied, making his way to the first aid cabinet. "That was awful, you know."

"You didn't seem to mind in the moment."

"In the moment is always different than the minutes after battle," Bowser said. He opened the cabinet, taking out a small blue box and setting it on the counter nearby. He pried it open, pulled out a small white packet, and tore it, sprinkling a coarse white powder on the wound. He grunted, face pinched as the medicine began knitting his flesh. "I never, gah, would have thought, I'd be the one to have to kill him."

"Did you know he was an agent?"

"Truthfully? No, though I had my suspicions," Bowser said, coming back toward Prince Renoit. "I always assumed he used to be a soldier."

"He had been. I saw potential in him, though, despite his years. I don't usually accept acolytes over thirty, but his style of fighting was lethally efficient, wasting very little motion. But time slowed him down, else I'm not entirely sure you would have survived."

"You took a risk you felt confident in," said Bowser, his hand covering the healing wound again as he lowered himself onto a stool. "I can't blame you for that." He looked over at the remains. "I suppose I could have refrained from killing him."

"I was just thinking that, but no," Renoit said. "He would have kept coming if he were allowed to recover." He went over to Bowser's desk, pulled out a steno pad, and jotted down a quick note, pressing his thumb in an open grease jar before rolling it on the paper. "An impromptu writ, explaining the body and authorizing you to dispose of it without question. I have some things to tend to in light of this."

"A new chief of staff?"

"Yes. I will also have to figure out who to name my new Second, which I will do when the

issue of the Throne has been cleared up. Speak not a word of rebellion unless we receive news of it first, Bowser. Such a movement must be born from the people, not the royal family."

"Understood." Bowser flinched as the last bit of his wound closed. "But Prince, I'm not part of the royal family. As Mason pointed out, I am of the lowest caste of all. I am just a peasant."

"Like hell you are," Renoit replied with a gentle grin. "Bowser, my brother Nurik saw something in you, something special. He vouched for your mechanical genius, and I've seen you fight with the power and glory of a berserker. A man's worth is in his deeds, not his bloodline."

Renoit handed Bowser the writ and departed, leaving Bowser with the shimmer of tears in his eyes.

Edward Meechum stood on the gazebo stage, his soldiers and the townspeople of Barris ringing the structure in the middle of town. Hundreds of koopas, scores of goombas, and even a few dozen humans waited for him to speak. A purple shell koopa stood behind him, ready to cast a spell which would amplify his voice far better than any machine could.

Meechum turned to the mage, a local man, and asked, "Does this look like everyone?"

"As close as we're likely going to get, sir," the mage replied. "The school would not let out for this, but your message will be delivered, rest assured."

"So long as they are not coerced. No threats against those who do not wish to join our cause, understood?"

"Aye, sir. Shall we begin?" Meechum nodded, and soon the mage waved his hands over him, curling white-blue light around his throat. Meechum turned toward the crowd and raised his hands to quiet what little noise there was.

"My friends, I give you greetings," he began, his voice ringing out true. "I am Edward Meechum, formerly a major of the Impirial Army of Gora. You probably do not know of me, and that is fine. Our army has, for decades, followed the principles of warfare as written by the great sage and philosopher, Arnold Douard." There were ripples of approval from the gathering, short-lived and respectful. "Many of our nation's customs have come, in the last twenty years, from his philosophical writings. Most of you gathered here no doubt have incorporated his 'Code of a Life Well-Lived' into your daily lives." He paused once more, and his timing was perfect. Everyone here seemed well-versed in Douard, as most of the Empire was. "Then I must share with you now terrible news, the news that has made my company turn into a rebel force against the Throne."

And here, as he'd expected might happen, came the looks and cries of alarm, the crowd shying back from soldiers who had, wisely, laid their weapons aside before the crowd even gathered. "Hear me, I beg! My men are unarmed, and mean you no ill will! We have defected, for the Emperor has had the great Douard jailed for speaking out against our war with Mushroom Kingdom!" Stunned silence, wide eyes. _That's got them listening, _he thought. "The Throne has betrayed its citizens, people!"

"How can you know this is true," called out a green tribe man from near the front of the crowd. "Douard is known to go into hiding when meditating on his writings!" Meechum gnashed his teeth, for he could only offer what he'd heard second-hand from another second-hand source. Yet the fates seemed to be with him, for from the crowd came tromping a huge black shell koopa, a Hammer Brother Meechum had met before. He'd never thought to see this man again, especially given who he'd served for so many years.

The Hammer Brother thrust his way past the soldiers onto the gazebo stage, and flapped a hand at the mage. The magic he'd cast on Meechum now hummed around the Hammer Brother's throat, and he spun to face the man who'd questioned Meechum.

"I am Turiya, formerly Third of the Hammer Brothers," the black shell boomed. "And I too have defected my post. I did so because two months ago, the duty of checking on the Heavenly Palace's secret prisoners fell to me. On that day, when I went into the dungeons to see these men and women, I discovered there a man who should never have been so dishonored. I saw there Arnold Douard."

The quiet that fell once again lasted only moments before erupting into cries of outrage. The Douard Rebellion had begun in earnest.

Three days after Bowser had killed Mason in the workshop, he awoke to discover himself

wanting more personal combat. He'd been just fine remaining removed from the war before, but felt the rage threatening to resurface and take control of him entirely. "I need an outlet," he grumbled to himself, sitting up in his new bed.

With Renoit spending his time with the Shadow's agents, convincing them all one-by-one to ignore the Throne for the time being, Bowser had nobody to talk to. Ardin hadn't come either, and he suspected the toadstool assassin had taken to hiding until all the dust of the war could settle. He didn't blame him, but it would have been a fine thing to have Ardin around to beat down.

So he nipped down to the castle's kitchen to fetch himself breakfast. He would figure out what to do with himself for the day. If he didn't, he might just have to pick a fight.

"This is insane," Godash spat, tossing the missive back at the Eighth Magistrate's official representative, a red tribe koopa wider than he was tall. "Rebellion? Is this why the attacks have not carried forward?"

"That, sire, and the traps Grand Magus Wunderweiss laid were, in part, found out and countered," said the portly official. "I've had two companies of the army defect in my territory. Another company, still loyal to the Emperor, is close by and ready to lead an arrest-by-combat."

"Very well." Godash turned toward the throne, where sat the simulacrum, looking suitably bored and life-like. "My lordship, I believe you should approve this notion." The Emperor nodded dutifully. "Very well. Now, Hoffer, tell me, why do these soldiers and citizens rebel against the Throne?"

"Because of the imprisonment of Arnold Douard, sir," said the official. "They call themselves the Douard Rebellion." Godash scoffed, sneering at Hoffer.

"Thank you for the information, Hoffer. Now, you may use the Warp Zone in the Palace Gardens to head back," Godash said, handing him a black metal token. "Give that to the Hammer Brothers guarding it, and they will let you pass." Hoffer escaped the throne room's hostile aura quickly, leaving Godash to fume by himself.

_Douard, even jailed for sedition these people prefer you. But we'll see how their rebellion holds against the power of the Throne. We'll just see._

Prince Tangerine saw the dust flying in the distance, and soon an outrider in his company came up alongside his wagon. "My lord Prince, King Toadstool comes!"

"My father? What cause could bring him from the Palace?"

"I know not, but he rides with a company of men. It may be we be pressed to service again against the Empire." His outrider cleared his throat. "Shall I order halt?"

"Aye, do," said Tangerine, reining in his horses. Minutes later, he could see an entire regiment, flying his father's personal military flag, coming over the ridge. The sight of those flags gave him great joy. "Father," he breathed with a smile.

Prince Tangerine dismounted and strode to the front of his small company, awaiting the King's approach. As King Toadstool dismounted from his own personal steed, the Prince realized that his father wore a suit of functional combat armor, as opposed to the flashy, gaudy ceremonial suit he normally wore for outings. There were five heavy travel wagons at the rear of the king's company, the sort normally used for medical transport.

As the king reached the halfway point between companies, he waved his son on to meet with him. Tangerine jogged out, and knelt down before him. "Majesty," he said. "I trust you received my letter."

"And sent word among the fronts," King Toadstool replied. "The Gora Empire already trembles with the birthing pains of rebellion. It is well."

"Then the war is over," said Tangerine, standing upright. "For what do you ride out in kit, father? Surely there's no more fighting to be done?"

"There are still Empire troops in our Kingdom, causing trouble. When we come upon them, we will dispose of them, for with me are the finest soldiers we can field." The king surveyed Tangerine's escort company. "I mayhap should have sent more men to retrieve you, my son. So few could easily have been overwhelmed by koopa forces."

"Nay, father, these were enough. So, will we support the rebellion in Gora?"

"We will not," said the king quietly. He stepped close, draping one arm over his son's

shoulders and giving him a companionable squeeze. "We will wait until their civil war has torn through their military forces, and then bring our war with them to a complete end."

"Father, what do you intend?"

"I intend to finally expand our Kingdom, my son. There will be no more Gora Empire when we are through. You will inherit a country twice the size I did," he said, laughing and clapping Tangerine on the back. "Isn't this wonderful?"

"Father, no," Tangerine said, stepping away from the king. "Douard is a wise man, and would make a fine ally as ruler of Gora. Ours has never been a nation of conquest."

"All things change, my son," King Toadstool rumbled, his rough, bearded face pinching in a snarl. "You will accept my decision."

"I will not," Tangerine rasped, hands shaking. "This is not who we are, father!"

"I feared you would not understand," said the king, walking away toward his troops. Tangerine looked at his father's men, most of whom had take up bows and throwing lances of koopa design. Now looking at them, he saw troops unloading fresh koopa corpses, a military detachment, from the heavy wagons. "The Kingdom will mourn your loss at the hands of the Empire."

Prince Tangerine could think of nothing to say, paralyzed by the terrified double realization of what was about to happen; _this is politics, _was the first, and _this is where I got it from _was second. The arrows struck, and a Prince perished.

Bowser tried not to flinch, but he'd never been comfortable with tailors. The red tribe man measuring his inner leg moved to the other side, fingers brushing his ankle, and the big koopa giggled and grunted. "Undignified," he muttered.

"It's a necessary step," said Renoit, sitting off to one side of the tailor's measuring room. "Have you decided on a primary weapon?"

"Yes," said Bowser. "Battle axes, one-handed. Hey, are you measuring me, or is this a date," he snapped at the tailor, who shied away momentarily.

"Your shell and hide are impressively thick, Bowser, but both can be broken, cut, breached. You're not an assassin, were never built for speed and slight movements."

"I'm fast enough for most."

"Yes, but if you square off against six or seven veteran soldiers, your moderate speed won't save you. Armor, and your offensive prowess are your graces. Those and your machines." Renoit opened the newest copy of the _Empire Times_ sitting on the guest table, and unfolded the front page. Bowser held his right arm out for the tailor, who measured and scribbled his numbers.

"Are you sending anyone with me," Bowser asked.

"Jaime, since he was the only one willing to volunteer. I can't force the agents to participate. The others have determined to hunker down and assist in their local posts if need arises." He fell quiet, reading an article. Bowser peeked over, saw Renoit's eyes narrow as he flipped inside the paper to continue his story. He waited until Renoit set the paper aside to inquire.

"Trouble?"

"General Faedron is dead," Renoit said gravely. "He tried to convince his battalion to join the rebellion, and they lynched him."

"That does not bode well," Bowser replied. "How close to the front?"

"Morrisville, about a hundred and fifty miles from Meechum. That's the 4th Battalion, Wolf Division. The 4th essentially commands the entire Division's loyalties, so we can expect they're all going to be pro-Throne."

"And Meechum's company?"

"7th company of the 3rd Battalion, Bear Division," Renoit said. "He's gathered the 4th, 5th and 6th as well, so the 3rd Battalion may well belong entirely to he rebellion. As for Turtle Division, they'll like as not be entirely rebel forces by now. Every Battalion commander there was a first-hand student of Douard."

"And the last Division, Eagle?"

"Unknown," Renoit said quietly, lost in thought, eyes looking through empty space. "They've remained in the west and south, almost entirely removed from the war since the first months. They're a wild card." Renoit stood up as the tailor scurried off to his work room through a thick blue curtain. "I'm going to go prepare a letter for Mayor Stodgings of Feldin. He'll be able to give me an idea about Eagle Division."

Bowser thanked Renoit for the company, then headed to the library. The Emperor, or rather Godash, had taken up Spicer's tactics before the rebellion began its birthing process. He had some reading to do.

The use of a Warp Whistle had brought King Toadstool back to his castle shortly after his son and is escort company had been taken care of, giving him that extra of cover he might need if anyone looked too close at how things had transpired.

Removing his combat armor, which had come in handy when fighting the Empire soldiers his personal attachment had encountered on the border, he sighed wearily. He hadn't taken any joy in killing Tangerine, but he had to do it, for the good of his Kingdom. The boy just didn't seem to understand.

Of course, this left Peach as the heir apparent to his throne, which could be even worse if something should ever befall him. The king shuddered, then changed into more regal attire. Once interred in his private study, he went to a box sitting on the mantle over the fireplace, opened it, revealing a single Coin, and said, "Gannondorf." The king then sauntered over to his liquor shelf, poured himself and his guest a glass of brandy, and took up residence in an enormous red wingback chair.

"Hello again, Mushroom King," said the warlock as he materialized in the other chair before the fireplace. Toadstool offered him the second glass, which Gannon took with a nod of thanks.

"I have killed my only son," the king said evenly. "Did you foresee this when you looked into my future, all those years ago?"

"I did not," said the warlock, propping one foot up on the opposite knee, his manner entirely casual. "Though, it doesn't really surprise me, considering what you did in your rush to take the throne."

"My father was a fool," snarled the king. "His continued leniency with the Empire would have doomed us all." He drank off his glass at a draught. "Besides, you helped, warlock. You are not free of guilt in that."

"I only provided you the venom. You didn't have to put it in his wine," said Gannon with a smile. "Nor did you have to have your wife's horse hexed to throw and trample her after your daughter was born, oh great king," Gannon added, almost as an afterthought.

"Knowing my secrets doesn't mean you can prove them, half breed," King Toadstool sneered, pouring himself another drink. "Nobody trusts you, nor would they believe you. Now, I asked you here for an exchange."

"As one would expect," said Gannon, swigging down his drink.

"Gora Empire has begun a descent into civil war, an unexpected but happy gift of fortune and poor decision-making on the Emperor's part. He jailed a nationally-beloved figure, Arnold Douard."

"Really?" Gannon feigned surprise quite well.

"Truly. I see in this tremendous opportunity, but I needs must insure myself against future ruin. I need you to look into my future, and provide me with a defense against my next great adversary, Gannondorf. Unless, of course, that threat is you," said the king with a wry grin.

"I seek only what is mine, Majesty, the Kingdom of Hyrule," Gannon replied. "And for payment, what would you offer me?" The Mushroom King snickered, reaching up onto one of his shelves and moving several books aside, revealing a hidden alcove, from which he took an ancient-looking tome.

"In this book is said to be a powerful ritual, one which can lend the power over time itself to the skilled practitioner. Take it," he said, tossing the book to Gannon. "It will be long before you can hope to master it, I believe, but if anyone can make it work, it would be you." Gannon tucked the book into his cloak, standing up to take the Mushroom King by the shoulders.

"This will be uncomfortable," he warned.


	21. Chapter 21- Blood Among Brothers

div class="qowt-page-container" style="margin: auto auto 5mm; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; -webkit-user-select: none; box-shadow: #d1d1d1 0px 0px 0px 1px, #cccccc 0px 0px 4px 1px; height: 279.3650793650793mm; width: 215.8730158730159mm; cursor: text !important; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-size: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial;"  
div id="E-89" class="qowt-section qowt-eid-E95" style="-webkit-user-select: text; -webkit-column-count: 1; padding-left: 90pt; padding-right: 90pt;"  
p id="E3991" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E3993" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"A week had passed since Bowser had been fitted for his armor, and he drove his kart hard, staying fully half a mile ahead of the mounted troops and flying paratroopas Willow and Rompus led with him east. Since leaving Renoit's castle, they had recruited two companies from Wolf Division, and engaged in battle with another, a fight that had seen Bowser unleash his full, furious potential./span/p  
p id="E3994" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E3995" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E3996" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"And it had been an awful thing to behold./span/p  
p id="E3997" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E3998" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E3999" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Dozens of koopas and humans fell under the brute force and savage skill of his axes, grown men, veterans of war, trying to flee as he carved their brethren into chunks of gory meat. Those he could not catch he breathed fireballs at, and a few were crushed under the wheels of his armored kart. The bestial glee of carnage on the battlefield satisfied him in ways he'd never thought it could./span/p  
p id="E4000" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4001" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4002" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"But then came the quiet afterwards, when he'd trudged through lanes of corpses, dragging his tail behind him, a lumbering golem in dented armor, numb to the world. Willow had been forced to slap him several times to bring him out of his fugue, and he'd wept into her narrow shoulder for five minutes before finally regaining control of himself. Bowser did not like this part of himself much, in the sober light of the aftermath. /span/p  
p id="E4003" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4004" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4005" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Driving toward Gethel, a sizable township a full day from Meechum's forces, he pulled up his magical energy scanner, sweeping the area ahead for traps. Wunderweiss was said to have sided with the Throne, so there were precautions that would need to be taken against him and his elite corps of mages. He'd already sent word ahead to Meechum, who for the time being, had become the unofficial lodestone for the Douard Rebellion./span/p  
p id="E4006" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4007" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4008" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Bowser sighed, relieved to find no traps ahead between him and Gethel. Using a set of switches on his control panel, he activated a set of white blinking lights back to the rest of his company, giving the all-clear signal. /span/p  
p id="E4009" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4010" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4011" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"It had taken only the one battle for people to start looking to him as a leader. He wasn't sure how much he cared for that./span/p  
p id="E4012" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4013" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4014" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"The township now laid only a few hundred yards ahead, and he slowed his kart, activating the chain gun turrets mounted on the front over the tires. He didn't want to discover a more mundane form of ambush lying in wait, and if one came, he would reduce it to a fine blood mist. But as his kart rolled onto the main brick road passing through the center of the township, he felt confident the reel forces would, at least, be tolerated here, if not entirely welcomed. He clicked the button again, the turrets disappearing back under their panels./span/p  
p id="E4015" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4016" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4017" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Locating an inn with a kart garage only took minutes, whereupon he was greeted with open arms by a yellow tribe koopa, the owner of the inn. "Hail Douard, my large young friend," the older man said./span/p  
p id="E4018" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4019" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4020" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Indeed, hail Douard, old dad," Bowser replied. "Does the whole of Gethel speak so?"/span/p  
p id="E4021" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4022" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4023" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Feh, no," said the innkeeper, flapping his hands in the kind of surrender the old have for the young's new ways. "There are some who wish to remain loyal to Gora. We have not yet come to blows, but it is a close thing, aye." Bowser took from his money pouch seven Coins, handing them to the innkeeper. /span/p  
p id="E4024" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4025" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4026" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""One day for me, the best that much Coin can get me," he said. /span/p  
p id="E4027" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4028" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4029" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""My goodness," said the innkeeper, eyes bright with greedy glee. "You want a girl? There's more than enough here to cover that."/span/p  
p id="E4030" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4031" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4032" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Charming, but no, I've no need for that," Bowser said. He drew out two more Coin. "These will pay for you to have someone guard my kart at all times," he said./span/p  
p id="E4033" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4034" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4035" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Of course! Follow me." Bowser went with the innkeeper to the front desk, where he was given a key marked '7'. He followed the older koopa's directions down the east hallway to his room, a suite as it turned out, and began shrugging off his armor. He had it half off when there came a knock at his door. /span/p  
p id="E4036" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4037" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4038" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""It's open," he called. The door opened, and as he set the cuirass on a plush sofa in the center of the room, a young green shell woman in chain armor stepped in. The sergeant's stripes on the left shoulder of her open-sided military serape caught his eye, as did the black 'D' stitched on the opposite side. "Sergeant," he said. /span/p  
p id="E4039" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4040" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4041" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Bowser, sir," she replied, standing at parade rest, hands tucked behind her back, feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent. /spanspan id="E4042" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Career military, /spanspan id="E4043" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"he thought. /spanspan id="E4044" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Probably conscripted, can't be much older than me./spanspan id="E4045" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" "Sergeant Tanya Welik, sir."/span/p  
p id="E4046" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4047" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4048" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Very well, Sergeant Welik. What can I do for you?"/span/p  
/div  
/div  
div class="qowt-page-container" style="margin: auto auto 5mm; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; -webkit-user-select: none; box-shadow: #d1d1d1 0px 0px 0px 1px, #cccccc 0px 0px 4px 1px; height: 279.3650793650793mm; width: 215.8730158730159mm; cursor: text !important; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-size: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial;"  
div id="E-90" class="qowt-section qowt-eid-E95" style="-webkit-user-select: text; -webkit-column-count: 1; padding-left: 90pt; padding-right: 90pt;"  
p id="E4049" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"br /span id="E4050" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4051" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""One of my men spotted some mousers when we were coming into town, sir, and we know they're usually handy with demolitons. I'd like permission to take some men to see if they can spare us some, or join up."/span/p  
p id="E4052" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4053" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4054" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""You hardly need my permission for that, sergeant," Bowser said with a casual scoff. "In case you hadn't realized, I don't even have rank. You needn't call me 'sir'." Welik shook her head, looked at him with an intensity he knew not what to make of./span/p  
p id="E4055" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4056" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4057" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""I saw you in battle, sir," she said, voice dropping in volume, coming out in an nearly worshipful husk. "You were magnificent./spanspan id="E4058" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"" Bowser rubbed the back of his head, feeling equal parts awkward and excited. Tanya Welik was a moderately attractive koopa woman, built tall and broad, but with equal amounts of clear intelligence and cunning in her eyes. /span/p  
p id="E4059" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4060" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4061" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Well, thank you, sergeant," he said. "Um, by all means, yes, check for those munitions. When you're through, perhaps you could come back and we could grab something to eat together, discuss strategy going forward." She smiled hugely and nodded, then about-faced to leave. As she reached the door, Bowser, mind racing, called out, "Sergeant?"/span/p  
p id="E4062" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4063" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4064" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Yes, sir?"/span/p  
p id="E4065" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4066" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4067" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Those studs on your shell," he said, realizing she only stood about five or six inches shorter than he. "Are they natural?"/span/p  
p id="E4068" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4069" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4070" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Aye, they are. Much like your spikes, sir."/span/p  
p id="E4071" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4072" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4073" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Were you an only child, sergeant?"/span/p  
p id="E4074" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4075" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4076" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Yes, why?" /span/p  
p id="E4077" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4078" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4079" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Just a curiosity. I'll see you here for dinner." She nodded and left, and Bowser's mind filled with screaming laughter. /spanspan id="E4080" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"It seems you didn't entirely fail with your efforts prior to me, Gannondorf, /spanspan id="E4081" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"he thought, snickering aloud./span/p  
p id="E4082" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E4083" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E4084" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4085" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4086" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Meechum stuck his spear in another fallen soldier, a koopa paratroopa who had been clipped by arrows during the skirmish. His forces were holding the town handily enough, but there had been at least two such battles each day for four days straight. He recognized the formations, the layout of attacks and timing patterns- they'd been ripped right out of Spicer's Gambit, a strategic manual written as a counter-offering to what Douard had taught./span/p  
p id="E4087" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4088" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4089" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"In the battle of strategies, Douard's way was holding much better./span/p  
p id="E4090" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4091" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4092" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Yet something about the methodical attacks was working, because today he'd lost fully twenty-four people, versus three the day before. His troops were getting fatigued, while the Loyals, as his people were now calling them, were consistently fresh. /span/p  
p id="E4093" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4094" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4095" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"He finished his clean-up duty and headed to the tavern he'd commandeered as a command station, bellying up to the bar with a shot of rye vodka. As he sipped at it, a familiae presence entered through the batwing doors and shuffled up to the seat on his left. /span/p  
p id="E4096" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4097" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4098" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""There's talk of his company getting close," said the newcomer, his dark grey travel cloak swirling as he hopped onto the stool. "There was a battle three days ago, a bad one. They say he fought like a demon."/span/p  
p id="E4099" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4100" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4101" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""I'm not surprised," said Meechum. "It is as we expected of him. Was he injured at all?"/span/p  
p id="E4102" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4103" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4104" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""No. Jaime didn't even have to help. I'm going to pull him once the company gets here, send him on a job."/span/p  
p id="E4105" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4106" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4107" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Renoit, does Bowser know he's being groomed," Meechum asked quietly./span/p  
p id="E4108" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4109" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4110" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""I don't think so." The Shadowcaster signaled the barkeep for a glass, poured himself a shot, and downed it quickly. "He has no active desire to lead, so he's not looking for opportunity. It stands to reason too that if he receives no official rank, he won't give it much thought."/span/p  
p id="E4111" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4112" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4113" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""We should give him rank, then, get him ready for the idea," said Meechum. "What do you think?"/span/p  
p id="E4114" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4115" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4116" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""I think a lot of veterans might be upset by such a move, but these are your people. You have a better read on their mentality."/span/p  
p id="E4117" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4118" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4119" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""And I think these people are just looking for some direction. Our soldiers grow weary from the skirmishes, so Bowser's company arriving will invigorate them, give them back the fire that burned so bright when first we rebelled." The two koopas shared another drink, this one in silence, and each man thought about their next step. For Meechum, a rotation of forces seemed a good, logical next step. For Renoit, what came next would be dangerous./span/p  
/div  
/div  
div class="qowt-page-container" style="margin: auto auto 5mm; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; -webkit-user-select: none; box-shadow: #d1d1d1 0px 0px 0px 1px, #cccccc 0px 0px 4px 1px; height: 279.3650793650793mm; width: 215.8730158730159mm; cursor: text !important; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-size: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial;"  
div id="E-91" class="qowt-section qowt-eid-E95" style="-webkit-user-select: text; -webkit-column-count: 1; padding-left: 90pt; padding-right: 90pt;"  
p id="E4120" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"br /span id="E4121" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4122" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"He had contacted his brother Joren, writing him a letter to say he was coming to discuss the rebel forces. Thus far, the heir to the Empire's Throne had sent no reply. Renoit worried that some ill had befallen him, and was going to head to Joren's castle to check on him. The entire city of Palsberg, which surrounded it, had come out as pure Loyal, and if they caught any hint that Renoit had sided with the rebellion, he would be mobbed. Still, it was a chance he had to take./span/p  
p id="E4123" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4124" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4125" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"He didn't want this war to claim another relative./span/p  
p id="E4126" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E4127" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E4128" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4129" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4130" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Turiya carried the dead black shell koopa out behind the chapel, careful not to let him bump into anything. He wanted to allow this fallen brother to retain his dignity in death. Gently he laid the dead man down at the foot of a tree, fetching from the tool shed attached to the small graveyard a beige funeral wrap he'd rummaged for earlier. He laid it out flat, moving the dead man onto it. /span/p  
p id="E4131" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4132" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4133" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"With great care he undid the strap securing the rounded black helmet from the corpse's head. He ran a callused thumb over the name stamped into the rim in small silver letters, 'Angsol'. He set the helmet aside and began wrapping the body in the fashion prescribed in tradition for all Hammer Brothers./span/p  
p id="E4134" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4135" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4136" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"When he was finished, he lowered the body into a grave he'd dug for Angsol, careful to make sure it laid flat. Climbing out, he let a single tear run a dirty track down his grimey cheek. Once up top, he grabbed his shovel, and took up a single chunk of soil. He then cleared his throat to speak, despite being the only man present./span/p  
p id="E4137" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4138" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4139" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""I now inter in the earth my fellow Hammer Brother, my brother by parentage, and my superior, all in a single man," he said. "Let this be known, for Angsol, Second of the Hammer Brothers, died by mine own hands in honorable melee. May the lands keep his body, and the skies his spirit."/span/p  
p id="E4140" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4141" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4142" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"He raised the shovel, and tossed in the first of many clumps of dirt./span/p  
p id="E4143" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E4144" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E4145" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4146" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4147" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Bowser leaned over toward Welik and whispered, "Do you have any idea what they're yelling at each other?" They sat next to one another in the living room of a mouser family, the patriarch and matriarch squeaking animatedly at each other and making violent gestures in the air. /span/p  
p id="E4148" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4149" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4150" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Not a clue," she replied. "This wasn't what we were expecting when we came looking for them. There's two more houses here on this side of the street, all extended family. This is the only one with munitions or weapons."/span/p  
p id="E4151" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4152" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4153" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""And they started arguing when you asked to talk about supplies?"/span/p  
p id="E4154" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4155" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4156" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Yup. That's when I decided to come get you," she said. "They were shouting at each other right after I excused myself to come fetch you. It was weird, because they completely stopped to listen to me, smiled, nodded, and as soon as I turned around, they were back at it." /span/p  
p id="E4157" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4158" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4159" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Bowser pictured the scene in his mind, snorted a short laugh. "I see. Allow me." He stood up slowly, the chair he'd been offered creaking with relief to be free of his oversized frame. The mousers looked at him, the male, his thin gray fur raising on his neck and forearms, shifted uneasily. His wife, her bluish fur sleek and matted to her skin with sweet-smelling oils, just followed Bowser casually with her eyes, as if she were bored. "Mister and missus, ah," he began./span/p  
p id="E4160" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4161" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4162" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Chukal," provided the husband./span/p  
p id="E4163" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4164" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4165" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Mister and missus Chukal, we are here as members of the Douard Rebellion," Bowser said evenly. "If this is the reason for your contention with one another, we can leave you and your family in peace. Is that why you argue now?" The Chukals shook their heads. "Then can you explain to me the crux of your disagreement?"/span/p  
p id="E4166" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4167" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4168" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""We have bombs," said mister Chukal. "But we have only six. I do not wish to give them to you, not because you are rebels, but because we want to sell bombs. My wife, she say we give you bombs, no money. But please," he said, clasping his hands together in supplication. "We are not have much money, very poor. If you can buy, would be better." Bowser nodded, taking his money pouch off of his hip and handing it to mister Chukal. /span/p  
p id="E4169" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4170" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4171" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Twenty Coin," Bowser said, at which the mouser couple marveled. "I take it that will do nicely?"/span/p  
p id="E4172-owchain-0" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" data-ow-chain="orphan"span id="E4173" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4174-owchain-0" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" data-ow-chain="orphan""Yes, yes," mister Chukal said, while missus took Welik by the hand and led her deeper into the house, presumably for the bombs. When Bowser and Welik got back to the hotel and dropped/span/p  
/div  
/div  
div class="qowt-page-container" style="margin: auto auto 5mm; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; -webkit-user-select: none; box-shadow: #d1d1d1 0px 0px 0px 1px, #cccccc 0px 0px 4px 1px; height: 279.3650793650793mm; width: 215.8730158730159mm; cursor: text !important; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-size: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial;"  
div id="E-93" class="qowt-section qowt-eid-E95" style="-webkit-user-select: text; -webkit-column-count: 1; padding-left: 90pt; padding-right: 90pt;"  
p id="E4172-owchain-1" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 1.2;" data-ow-chain="widow"span id="E4174-owchain-1" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" data-ow-chain="widow"off their purchased wares, they could restrain their laughter no longer. /span/p  
p id="E4175" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 1.2;"span id="E4176" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4177" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"It felt very fine to laugh for Bowser, who had known very little to laugh about in too long a time. As the chuckles and tittering tappered off, the silence that crept in, swollen with possibilities, forced his eyes to lock on hers./span/p  
p id="E4178" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 1.2;"span id="E4179" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4180" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"The next thing to lock was his hotel suite's main door./span/p  
p id="E4181" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 1.2;" /p  
p id="E4182" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 1.2;" /p  
p id="E4183" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 1.2;"span id="E4184" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4185" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Godash descended the steps down into the dungeon with a torch held high, chasing away the shadows as he stalked to Douard's cell. The wise old koopa sat on his bunk as Godash arrived, pen in hand, journal open on his lap./span/p  
p id="E4186" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 1.2;"span id="E4187" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4188" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Why do they love you so much," the politician snarled, frowning at the red shell scholar. "Those people forget their place, and claim you as the architect for their grand ideal! Why, Douard?" Douard smiled, closed his journal, and set it aside. He turned his head just enough to look over at Godash./span/p  
p id="E4189" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 1.2;"span id="E4190" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4191" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Because I love them all," he said, as if this were something so obvious that it should bear no question in the first place./span/p  
p id="E4192" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 1.2;"span id="E4193" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4194" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""You wrote the book on military tactics for this nation's army, old man. How precisely does that speak to love?"/span/p  
p id="E4195" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 1.2;"span id="E4196" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4197" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""I wrote those treatises in order to help protect this country and its peoples," Douard said. "They have never been intended for expansion or civil war. You should read my entries on life philosophy."/span/p  
p id="E4198" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 1.2;"span id="E4199" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4200" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""I've tried," Godash said, cringing. He flapped the torch hand dismissively. "It's cotton candy fluff and nonsense from what I could tell. For the gods' sake, you denounce the caste system we depend upon in your ramblings, and nobody's fought for that before."/span/p  
p id="E4201" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 1.2;"span id="E4202" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4203" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""They have tried," Douard said, still smiling. Every moment he had to see that expression ratcheted up Godash's blood pressure. "Those that did, ended up here or in a grave. The caste system is harmful to any civilized society, Benjamin. It causes stagnation."/span/p  
p id="E4204" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 1.2;"span id="E4205" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4206" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Our Empire has ever thrived," Godash countered./span/p  
p id="E4207" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 1.2;"span id="E4208" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4209" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Only by going to war. War is the only thing that can break the stagnation of the caste system aside from evolving our nation into a republic. The only time a caste system can work otherwise is if everyone is truly happy in their station, and that, my good man, is simply not possible." Godash kicked at the bars of the cell, causing them to vibrate loudly./span/p  
p id="E4210" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 1.2;"span id="E4211" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4212" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Do not call me your good man," he shouted petulantly. "I would be doing this Empire a favor if I had you executed right now!"/span/p  
p id="E4213" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 1.2;"span id="E4214" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4215" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""You will do what you think is best for you," Douard said gracefully, stretching out on his cot, hands folded over his chest. "Give the Emperor my regards." Godash snarled wordlessly at Douard, stomping away. The last thing he heard as he exited the dungeons was Douard's soft laughter, echoing like a ghost./span/p  
p id="E4216" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 1.2;" /p  
/div  
/div 


	22. Chapter 22- Titles and Privileges

div class="qowt-page-container" style="margin: auto auto 5mm; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; -webkit-user-select: none; box-shadow: #d1d1d1 0px 0px 0px 1px, #cccccc 0px 0px 4px 1px; font-size: medium; height: 279.3650793650793mm; width: 215.8730158730159mm; cursor: text !important; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-size: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial;"  
div id="E-93" class="qowt-section qowt-eid-E95" style="-webkit-user-select: text; -webkit-column-count: 1; padding-left: 90pt; padding-right: 90pt;"  
p id="E4226" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4228" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Bowser drove his kart along two hundred yards ahead of the company, turrets armed and ready. He'd already navigated them around several magical traps, and gunned down a six-man unit that lobbed arrows at his vehicle as soon as the 'D' flag on his hood became visible. The projectiles bounced harmlessly off the armor plating on the kart, and his return fire chewed through them in seconds flat. /span/p  
p id="E4229" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4230" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4231" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"His mind wasn't entirely in the moment. His thoughts kept swirling back to Tanya Welik, the woman with whom he'd taken the final step into manhood. The experience had been ephemeral and raw at the same time, something he could hardly describe even to himself. She'd said nothing that morning as they dressed and prepared to depart, content to smile and hum to herself cheerfully. He took this as a good sign, yet felt a building pressure to talk about what they'd shared together./span/p  
p id="E4232-owchain-0" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" data-ow-chain="orphan"span id="E4233" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4234-owchain-0" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" data-ow-chain="orphan"The need to get moving outweighed his personal issues, however, and they'd rounded up their/span/p  
/div  
/div  
div class="qowt-page-container" style="margin: auto auto 5mm; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; -webkit-user-select: none; box-shadow: #d1d1d1 0px 0px 0px 1px, #cccccc 0px 0px 4px 1px; font-size: medium; height: 279.3650793650793mm; width: 215.8730158730159mm; cursor: text !important; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-size: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial;"  
div id="E-94" class="qowt-section qowt-eid-E95" style="-webkit-user-select: text; -webkit-column-count: 1; padding-left: 90pt; padding-right: 90pt;"  
p id="E4232-owchain-1" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" data-ow-chain="widow"span id="E4234-owchain-1" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" data-ow-chain="widow"company and hit the road early without that conversation. He felt it could wait, particularly given the weight of purpose upon them all./span/p  
p id="E4235" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4236" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4237" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"As he came over the crest of a ridge which led down into a wide valley, in which sat the township Meechum's battalion had annexed, Bowser saw Loyal forces preparing on the outskirts to mount a ring-shaped offensive. He signaled back to the company to ready for combat, activating his targeting systems. He felt a thrill at knowing that this assault kart had been crafted by his very own mind, assembled by his two hands. It had been a pet project, never released to the Empire's factories for mass production./span/p  
p id="E4238" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4239" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4240" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"He would discuss trying to make a few more with Meechum, as he was currently the de facto leader of the Douard Rebellion./span/p  
p id="E4241" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4242" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4243" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"He was almost within firing range before the Loyal forces realized they had a problem, and with a dragon roar, he charged into mechanized battle./span/p  
p id="E4244" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E4245" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E4246" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4247" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4248" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Meechum heard automatic weapons' fire coming from the outskirts of town, and when he used his spyglass, saw a veritable rout in progress. Bowser's company was ruthless, packs of rebel soldiers riding hard into the Loyal ranks. His own troops whooped and hollered, joining the fracas shortly thereafter. Within twenty minutes, the battle was over, a decisive victory culminating in the surrender of the last sixteen Loyals who survived long enough to throw down their weapons./span/p  
p id="E4249" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4250" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4251" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Meechum jogged toward the west end of town, where Bowser's company had come from, spotting the armored kart as the mutant koopa pulled it up in front of a small inn near the edge of town. Scores of his fellows cheered him as he exited the vehicle, adulation which seemed to make him awkward. /span/p  
p id="E4252" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4253" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4254" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""The triumpant war hero arrives," Meechum called out as he approached. Bowser whipped around, smiling hugely at the yellow shell warrior. He bounded up and wrapped Meechum in a bone-squeezing embrace, laughing. /span/p  
p id="E4255" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4256" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4257" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Oh, it's good to see you again," Bowser said, letting him go. "We have much to discuss. Where is Renoit?"/span/p  
p id="E4258" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4259" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4260" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""He left yesterday to see his brother, Joren," said Meechum. "Come along, you're a man now. Let's share a drink and a meal. Have your men disperse and take comfort." Bowser returned to his company, relaying Meechum's request, and returned with Tanya beside him, the pair clasping hands. "Oh, what's this," Meechum teased, arms folded over his chest, eyebrow cocked. /span/p  
p id="E4261" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4262" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4263" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""This is sergeant Welik," said Bowser. "She is a, uh, good companion of mine," he said, stammering. She shook Meechum's hand and reclaimed Bowser's./span/p  
p id="E4264" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4265" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4266" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""I made a man of him yesterday," she said playfully. Bowser's cheeks bloomed instantly with color, and Meechum barked laughter. /span/p  
p id="E4267" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4268" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4269" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""How charmingly inappropriate," he guffawed, clapping Bowser on the shoulder. "Come, then, and join our palaver, sergeant." He turned and guided the couple then to the tavern, requesting stew and bread and cheese from the kitchen. They took up a table in the center of the floor, other soldiers quickly filing in behind them. The barkeep yelled for someone named Gloria to get off her ass and start serving./span/p  
p id="E4270" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4271" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4272" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Bowser sipped the amber liquid brought to him, grimacing for a moment. "What is this," he asked./span/p  
p id="E4273" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4274" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4275" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Ale, locally brewed," Meechum said. "There's already been talk of making you a commanding officer, my young friend. I'm inclined to agree with the idea. We've begun changing from the Empire's command structure to a simpler arrangement with four ranks, being general, commander, sergeant and private. Would you scoff at the notion of being named a commander?"/span/p  
p id="E4276" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4277" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4278" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Rank hardly seems a necessity to me," Bowser admitted, "but if it will help establish order, I'll accept the title."/span/p  
p id="E4279" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4280" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4281" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Excellent! Now, this stew is some of the best I've had since staying at Renoit's castle, and if I dare say so, is even better than Mason's recipe," Meechum said. Bowser winced at the dead chief of staff's name. He tucked into his food, and found himself in agreement with Meechum./span/p  
p id="E4282" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4283" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4284" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Have the Divisions settled into their alignments yet," he asked./span/p  
p id="E4285" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4286" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4287" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Largely, yes. The military split came to around a 40/60 split in favor of the Loyals, but the civilian populace is roughly 70/30 in our favor. Most goombas lean to us, while mousers favor the Throne. Humans are pretty evenly divided."/span/p  
p id="E4288" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4289" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4290" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Has there been any word about Douard from the capital," Welik asked./span/p  
/div  
/div  
div class="qowt-page-container" style="margin: auto auto 5mm; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; -webkit-user-select: none; box-shadow: #d1d1d1 0px 0px 0px 1px, #cccccc 0px 0px 4px 1px; font-size: medium; height: 279.3650793650793mm; width: 215.8730158730159mm; cursor: text !important; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-size: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial;"  
div id="E-95" class="qowt-section qowt-eid-E95" style="-webkit-user-select: text; -webkit-column-count: 1; padding-left: 90pt; padding-right: 90pt;"  
p id="E4291" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"br /span id="E4292" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4293" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""None, save that the Emperor has ordered all copies of his philosophical writings destroyed," said Meechum. "There are book burnings all across the western magistrates."/span/p  
p id="E4294" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4295" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4296" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Such a waste," Bowser mused aloud. "No book should ever be burned." He finished his food and drink, then asked for a mead from a bar maid. "Any ro', what's our next move?"/span/p  
p id="E4297" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4298" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4299" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Consolidation," said Meechum. "I've been in touch with several other commanders, and we've agreed to move the bulk of our forces to the city of Telucha, in the fourth magistrate. Its entire populace is pro-Douard, so they've offered us welcome to make it our seat of operations."/span/p  
p id="E4300" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4301" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4302" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""That's not far from Piko Lake," Bowser said, his expression fogging over. /span/p  
p id="E4303" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4304" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4305" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Yes, where you were hatched," said Meechum. He reached over and patted Bowser's rough, scaly hand. "We'll take a couple of days here, gather ourselves, and then depart on a hurried march to a Warp Zone nearby. Telucha has already secured the Zone just outside of the city."/span/p  
p id="E4306" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4307" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4308" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Bowser sipped his freshly arrived mead, a much sweeter beverage more to his liking, and tried not to think of his youngest days./span/p  
p id="E4309" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E4310" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E4311" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4312" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4313" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Renoit slipped into Joren's castle with heart-sinking ease, passing only a few feet from guards several times on his way to the eldest Prince's business office on the fifth floor. /spanspan id="E4314" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"This is embarrassing, /spanspan id="E4315" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"he thought, creeping into Joren's office. His oldest brother stood gazing out a window toward the town surrounding his keep, his ceremonial armor polished to a high shine. Renoit was almost beside him when the Shadowcaster felt his body begin to levitate off the floor./span/p  
p id="E4316" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4317" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4318" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""You broke the seal of welcome at my doorway, assassin," Joren said without looking, his deep, guttural voice vibrating the air itself with magical power. "You rebels aren't a very thoughtful lot, are you?"/span/p  
p id="E4319" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4320" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4321" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""I wouldn't know, brother," Renoit said. Spinning toward him with wide eyes, Joren's concentration slipped, letting Renoit land in a crouch a few feet away./span/p  
p id="E4322" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4323" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4324" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Oh, goodness," Joren said, stepping over to Renoit and putting his hands on the smaller, sleeker koopa's shoulders. "I am very sorry, brother! I didn't realize it was you!"/span/p  
p id="E4325" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4326" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4327" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Clearly," said Renoit, dusting himself off. "You didn't respond to my letter, so I got worried."/span/p  
p id="E4328" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4329" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4330" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Your letter? Ah, yes, you'd said it was direly important that we speak. I'm so sorry, again. I've been busy dealing with all of these military defections, I didn't even think about it. Come, sit. I'll pour us a drink." Joren bustled over to a cabinet, from which he took two thin glasses and a bottle of sherry. He offered Renoit one, then sat opposite him at his imposing oak desk, parting the clutter gently. "To our family, Renoit," he said, raising his glass./span/p  
p id="E4331" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4332" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4333" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""To family," Renoit dutifully replied. They drank, and the Shadowcaster decided that cutting to the heart of the matter would be best. "Joren, does father seem different to you at all lately? Like he's not himself?"/span/p  
p id="E4334" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4335" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4336" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Funny you should mention that," Joren said. "Advisor Godash sent word last night that father is in the grip of a fever delirium. He's trying to make sense of father's ravings, and I think he's doing a good job of it, all things considered."/span/p  
p id="E4337" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4338" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4339" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Really? Do tell."/span/p  
p id="E4340" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4341" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4342" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Well, apparently, father has convinced himself that giant bumblebees are going to swarm into is room and weave quilts to smother him with, for starters," Joren said, shaking his head sadly. He sighed. "He may not recover from this one, brother. We may lose him."/span/p  
p id="E4343" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4344" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4345" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""About that," Renoit said, seeing an opening. "There have been rumors, brother, rumors that our father is already dead, and a simulacrum put in his place." Joren blinked at him, looking confused. "You appear to be studying magic, brother. I assumed you knew what a simulacrum was."/span/p  
p id="E4346" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4347" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4348" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Never heard of it," Joren replied. "Then again, I've only been receiving instruction for five months. What is this thing you speak of?"/span/p  
p id="E4349" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4350" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4351" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""It's a construct made to act as a stand-in for a person, animated with magic an controlled by another person. The prevailing rumor is that Advisor Godash is controlling a simulacrum of our father, usurping the Throne without notice." Joren poured himself more sherry and shook his head./span/p  
p id="E4352" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4353" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4354" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Rebel lies, like as not," said Joren. "You should have your people find the source of these rumors and deal with them quietly." He sipped his drink, offering Renoit more with a shake of the decanter. /span/p  
p id="E4355-owchain-0" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" data-ow-chain="orphan"span id="E4356" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4357-owchain-0" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" data-ow-chain="orphan""Most of my people are busy trying to find out which officials are aiding the rebels through/span/p  
/div  
/div  
div class="qowt-page-container" style="margin: auto auto 5mm; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; -webkit-user-select: none; box-shadow: #d1d1d1 0px 0px 0px 1px, #cccccc 0px 0px 4px 1px; font-size: medium; height: 279.3650793650793mm; width: 215.8730158730159mm; cursor: text !important; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-size: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial;"  
div id="E-96" class="qowt-section qowt-eid-E95" style="-webkit-user-select: text; -webkit-column-count: 1; padding-left: 90pt; padding-right: 90pt;"  
p id="E4355-owchain-1" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" data-ow-chain="widow"span id="E4357-owchain-1" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" data-ow-chain="widow"sabotage, pretending to be loyal to the Throne outwardly," Renoit said. This was a lie of high order, but his brother would never know that. The Shadow owed no allegiance to the other sons of the Emperor./span/p  
p id="E4358" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4359" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4360" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""That is best," said Joren. "Well, will you be staying on here a bit, then?"/span/p  
p id="E4361" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4362" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4363" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""No, I'm going to head off this very afternoon toward the capital. I believe Grand Magus Wunderweiss will want to know what the Shadow can do to help with magical countermeasures."/span/p  
p id="E4364" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4365" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4366" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Ah, say no more," said Joren. "It was good to see you, brother."/span/p  
p id="E4367" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4368" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4369" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Likewise." Renoit left the castle then, allowing every guard to see his passage. To say Joren's captain o'the guard was furious with his people would have been an understatement./span/p  
p id="E4370" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E4371" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E4372" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4373" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4374" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Godash felt his neck bunching up as he listened to the paratroopa's report. Grand Magus Wunderweiss was missing, and nearly a dozen of the Emperor's most highly prized artifacts were gone with him. The wizard had cleared out all of his prized tomes, leaving his spell chamber a shambles. There had, at first, appeared to be nothing left behind./span/p  
p id="E4375" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4376" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4377" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""But this envelop was left for you, Advisor," said the green tribe paratroopa, approaching Godash and handing him the object in question. A single word, his name, had been written on it. "We didn't want to break the wax seal, in case it was hexed, sir." Godash turned the envelop this way and that, checking for signs of tampering, seeing none. He shifted on the throne and waved the young koopa off./span/p  
p id="E4378" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4379" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4380" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Using a letter opener, he cut through the seal, which flashed a dull orange as it was broken. /spanspan id="E4381" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Trigger alarm, /spanspan id="E4382" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"he thought. /spanspan id="E4383" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"He'll know it's been opened./spanspan id="E4384" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" He had suspected the Grand Magus might eventually hightail it, preferring to save his own skin, wait until the dust settled. When he couldn't track the wizard down, he all but knew Wunderweiss had taken the temperature of the civil war's waters, and decided to seek better climes./span/p  
p id="E4385" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4386" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4387" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"But as he read the brief missive left for him, Benjamin Godash's annoyance became screaming terror in his head. It read simply this-/span/p  
p id="E4388" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4389" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4390" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"'Did you really think a simulacrum would fool me, Ben? /spanspan id="E4391" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Me, the Grand Magus? /spanspan id="E4392" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"This Empire needs a change, and I intend to help that happen. -W'/span/p  
p id="E4393" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4394" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4395" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"All of his carefully placed cards were tumbling, and soon the whole thing would fall /spanspan id="E4396" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"flat./span/p  
p id="E4397" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E4398" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E4399" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E4400" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4401" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4402" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Willow and Rompus tossed dice against a book stood on end in their room, toting up their scores as they went. Willow made another roll, tossing just a touch too hard, two of her dice bouncing clear from the table. Rompus snorted. "Geez, Willow, something gnawing at you?"/span/p  
p id="E4403" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4404" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4405" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""This whole damned situation is gnawing at me," she snapped. "And now I've got to see a healer about these pains in my guts. I'm telling you, if we had to go into another fight right now, I'd have to let you have all the fun."/span/p  
p id="E4406" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4407" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4408" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""I've always enjoyed it more than you anyhow," Rompus replied. He plucked the dice up and handed them over, letting her finish her roll. Their room was nice enough, a guest room offered by an older couple living on the town's south end. Yet these two, who had watched over Bowser for so many years, yearned to be close to him again. But the Shadowcaster had made himself clear; they were to keep a distant eye on him only, never again interfering. Prince Renoit had sounded pained when he issued the order, but Bowser was a man now./span/p  
p id="E4409" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4410" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4411" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"When they finished their game, Willow headed off to speak to a healer, leaving Rompus to his own musings. He'd never been accused of being a deep thinker. Dubbed since his training days a 'combat monkey', Rompus didn't fare well in times of peace and quiet. Contrary to popular belief, this made him an efficient Shadow agent. Agents on assignment always had something to do, some objective to accomplish that would bring them closer and closer to an altercation./span/p  
p id="E4412" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4413" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4414" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"So his mind turned toward his and Willow's other ongoing mission. They'd have to leave the town soon, ahead of everyone else, if they were to achieve it. General Loens wasn't going to kill himself, after all, and with his company so close to where they were all heading, it would be best to remove him as a roadblock. Assassinations behind enemy lines created wonderful volumes of chaos./span/p  
p id="E4415" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4416" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4417" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"He was grinning at the idea when Willow returned, her face slack, eyes wide. He got up, recognizing her shock. "What's wrong, Willow? Are you sick? Is it an infection from a wound?"/span/p  
p id="E4418" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4419" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4420" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""No," she said, suddenly smiling. "I'm pregnant."/span/p  
/div  
/div  
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	23. Chapter 23- Momentum

div class="qowt-page-container" style="margin: auto auto 5mm; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; -webkit-user-select: none; box-shadow: #d1d1d1 0px 0px 0px 1px, #cccccc 0px 0px 4px 1px; font-size: medium; height: 279.3650793650793mm; width: 215.8730158730159mm; cursor: text !important; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-size: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial;"  
div id="E-98" class="qowt-section qowt-eid-E95" style="-webkit-user-select: text; -webkit-column-count: 1; padding-left: 90pt; padding-right: 90pt;"  
p id="E4432" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4434" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"For three months the civil war raged on, claiming hundreds of lives on both sides. With Wunderweiss now aiding the rebellion, yet keeping Godash's secret, the Loyals lost ground at a steady pace. But a single battle brought the two sides to a stand-still once more, with the death of Prince Joren and the crippling of general Edward Meechum, his right arm torn off. The two leaders had clashed in the fields south of Pangos, fifty miles east of the capital. As Meechum ran Joren through with his spear, the Prince unleashed a devastating bolt of magical lightning that blew Meechum clear away, his arm welded to the spear through Joren's chest./span/p  
p id="E4435" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4436" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4437" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Meechum survived, but just barely. The pause in skirmishes had held for four days when Bowser finally arrived in the hospital in Telucha, where Meechum had been taken. He blustered right past healers, nurses and guards, pushing them roughly aside until he stood by Meechum's bed, staring down at his stand-in father figure./span/p  
p id="E4438" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4439" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4440" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Meechum," he rasped. He surveyed the damage as clinically as he could, holding back his rage. Yet as bad as the yellow tribe warrior looked, he managed a smile for Bowser./span/p  
p id="E4441" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4442" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4443" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""I believe this calls for a field promotion, my young friend," Meechum said weakly. "You're in charge now, until I can take the field again."/span/p  
p id="E4444" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4445" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4446" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""I don't think," Bowser began, but another commander, a blue tribe in full chain armor, stood from his seat on the other side of the bed./span/p  
p id="E4447" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4448" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4449" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""The other commanders already signed notices of acknowledgment," said the blue tribe. "Sir, you are now general Bowser Entem, commanding officer of the Douard Rebellion." He handed Bowser a scroll, which listed his full name and title. He laid it out on a rolling tray for patients, and took out a pen, scribbling out his last name and writing in simply 'Koopa'. He then rolled it back up and tucked it in his belt. "Sir?"/span/p  
p id="E4450" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4451" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4452" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""No family may guide a nation by name alone," Bowser said. "If I am to lead my people, then let them know that all koopas are equal. Such would be the will of great Douard." The commader nodded, saluted, and left the room. Bowser took up his seat, glowering at the other staff who'd rushed in after him. "Leave us," he rumbled, and they did. He rolled his chair close to Meechum, taking up his remaining hand. "Are you in pain, my friend?"/span/p  
p id="E4453" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4454" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4455" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Some."/span/p  
p id="E4456" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4457" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4458" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Take rest, then. I'll help you. This is a story my mother used to read to me when I was a boy," he said, recalling the tale from rote memory. "Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Red Riding Hood."/span/p  
p id="E4459" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E4460" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E4461" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4462" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4463" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Godash paced back and forth in the dungeon cell, waiting for the warlock to appear. He'd called for him three times, and was about to do so again when Gannondorf came falling out of the shadows in the corner of the chamber, covered in bandages and tattered clothes and cloak./span/p  
p id="E4464" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4465" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4466" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Your timing is horrible," the half-orc snarled, clutching his left arm to his stomach. /span/p  
p id="E4467" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4468" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4469" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""What the hell happened to you?"/span/p  
p id="E4470" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4471" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4472" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""An elven lad named Link," Gannon snapped, spitting a bloody wad of phlegm off to one side. "I barely managed to escape, thanks to your distracting me. What could you possibly want from me right now?"/span/p  
p id="E4473" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4474" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4475" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""The Coins," Godash said, pointing to the pile, which appeared to be half gone. "There's no way we went through that much money."/span/p  
p id="E4476" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4477" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4478" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Well, where's your partner," Gannon asked, easing himself into a seated position on the floor, letting out a long gust of air. "The wizard Wunderweiss."/span/p  
p id="E4479" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4480" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4481" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""He defected to the rebellion. Why?"/span/p  
p id="E4482-owchain-0" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" data-ow-chain="orphan"span id="E4483" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4484-owchain-0" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" data-ow-chain="orphan""Because I made that deal with the two of you," Gannon said. "When he left your company, he voided one half of our agreement. What you see here is what you have." Godash snorted, pacing/span/p  
/div  
/div  
div class="qowt-page-container" style="margin: auto auto 5mm; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; -webkit-user-select: none; box-shadow: #d1d1d1 0px 0px 0px 1px, #cccccc 0px 0px 4px 1px; font-size: medium; height: 279.3650793650793mm; width: 215.8730158730159mm; cursor: text !important; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-size: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial;"  
div id="E-99" class="qowt-section qowt-eid-E95" style="-webkit-user-select: text; -webkit-column-count: 1; padding-left: 90pt; padding-right: 90pt;"  
p id="E4482-owchain-1" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" data-ow-chain="widow"span id="E4484-owchain-1" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" data-ow-chain="widow"with his hands on his hips. /span/p  
p id="E4485" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4486" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4487" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""This is ridiculous. This rebellion needs a sure lesson in towing the line. Prince Joren is now dead, the Shadow has joined Douard's army, and our great engineer has been with them since the beginning."/span/p  
p id="E4488" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4489" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4490" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Ah, yes, young Bowser. Do you even remember him, Benjamin? Do you recall your connection to him?" Godash narrowed his eyes, trying to think back./span/p  
p id="E4491" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4492" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4493" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""No, I don't."/span/p  
p id="E4494" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4495" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4496" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Allow me to remind you, then," Gannon said. "His father was Luther Entem, a green tribe builder of tremendous talent. His mother was Cassandra, killed when an assassin struck down Prince Nurik." Godash sucked air in between his teeth. "You realize now, don't you? Yes, you began your dealings with me to enrich yourself and gain power in the Empire, but somewhere along the way, you became more focused on political clout than your personal fortune."/span/p  
p id="E4497" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4498" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4499" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""He's the mutant child," Godash said, his mind now racing into the past. "The one whose parents chose to lose status rather than give him up."/span/p  
p id="E4500" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4501" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4502" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""The same," said Gannon with a flash of teeth./span/p  
p id="E4503" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4504" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4505" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""By the gods. How much does he know," Godash asked, grabbing Gannon's cloak and pulling himself down, so they were nose-to-nose. "How much?"/span/p  
p id="E4506" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4507" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4508" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Everything," Gannon whispered. "He investigated. He found out about the Thwomp that killed his father, your contract with Ardin, and your manipulations here in the capital. He's been piecing things together since he was but a boy. And do you know who his tutor was when he lived with Prince Nurik, after his father was killed?" Godash let go of Gannon and backed slowly away from him. /span/p  
p id="E4509" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4510" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4511" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""No," Godash breathed./span/p  
p id="E4512" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4513" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4514" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""His tutor was the great philosopher Arnold Douard," Gannon said, giggling darkly. "You have created your own destruction!" Cackling with mad glee, the warlock rolled back into the shadows, leaving behind only the echoes of his twisted mirth. Godash screamed, fleeing from the dungeon./span/p  
p id="E4515" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E4516" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E4517" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4518" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4519" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"The Mushroom King stood in his personal vault, the scent of orange cream still heavy in his nose. The chambermaid had lathered the stuff on her skin, and it rubbed off on him during their coupling, enough so that even now, an hour later, he still smelled it. /span/p  
p id="E4520" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4521" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4522" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"The object before him, with which he'd become mildly obsessed, didn't precisely strike him as special. For all intents and purposes, it looked like any ordinary green pipe, of the sort used by pirana plants and for accessing hard-to-reach places. He had tried sending guards through it, but they just stood inside, heads visible over the rim as they stood on a black flooring. /span/p  
p id="E4523" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4524" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4525" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Gannondorf had told him that when the time came, a stranger from another world would come through it. The king's task was to immediately convince this far traveler that his nation needed his help. The warlock gave no further explanation than that./span/p  
p id="E4526" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4527" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4528" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"So every day since then, the king came here once or twice during the day to stare at the pipe, willing a champion to come through. Yet nothing happened, and the pipe just sat there, looking useless. He wondered at times if he'd perhaps been swindled. /span/p  
p id="E4529" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4530" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4531" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""He wouldn't dare," he mumbled. "Not if he knows what's good for him." King Toadstool reached out, touching one hand to the green metal. There was a hum in the pipe, one that hadn't been there previously. It was subtle, but he could feel it in his bones, a magic so deep he could scarcely think of where it must come from. /span/p  
p id="E4532" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4533" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4534" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"His faith restored, the Mushroom King left the vault, his mind awash with good vibes./span/p  
p id="E4535" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E4536" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E4537" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4538" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4539" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"The priest rapped on the bars of Douard's cell gently, bringing the philosopher out of a light doze. Douard sat up, offered the preacher a smile, and walked over to the bars. "This is an unexpected comfort," the old koopa said. "To what do I owe the pleasure, father?"/span/p  
p id="E4540" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4541" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4542" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Oh, I wish I wasn't here," said the priest. Douard cleared his throat, nodding./span/p  
p id="E4543" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4544" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4545" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Not a fan of mine, I take it?"/span/p  
p id="E4546-owchain-0" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" data-ow-chain="orphan"span id="E4547" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4548-owchain-0" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" data-ow-chain="orphan""Oh! Oh no, it's not like that, Douard, no! It's just, well, the reason I'm here, that's why I don't like it." The priest looked aside, sighed, and met Douard's eyes. "Arnold Douard, I am father Ian Harvin, of the United Church of the Gods of Famicom. I am here today to take your final confession. On the dawn of tomorrow's day, the Emperor has decreed, you shall be escorted to the Great/span/p  
/div  
/div  
div class="qowt-page-container" style="margin: auto auto 5mm; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; -webkit-user-select: none; box-shadow: #d1d1d1 0px 0px 0px 1px, #cccccc 0px 0px 4px 1px; font-size: medium; height: 279.3650793650793mm; width: 215.8730158730159mm; cursor: text !important; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-size: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial;"  
div id="E-100" class="qowt-section qowt-eid-E95" style="-webkit-user-select: text; -webkit-column-count: 1; padding-left: 90pt; padding-right: 90pt;"  
p id="E4546-owchain-1" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" data-ow-chain="widow"span id="E4548-owchain-1" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" data-ow-chain="widow"Courtyard, where, before all witnesses who would come, you shall be hanged from the neck, until you are dead."/span/p  
p id="E4549" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4550" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4551" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Douard once again nodded, his grin still intact. He walked back to his cot, opening his journal and retrieving from within an envelope he'd made from a page in journal itself. He brought it to the priest and held it out to him. /span/p  
p id="E4552" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4553" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4554" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""I have not believed in the gods in a long time, padre," Douard said. "But I do have faith in the people. Deliver this message to a young man in the rebellion, a koopa named Bowser. That will suffice for my final confession." The priest took the envelope, hiding it in the inner pocket of his outer robe, and bowed his head./span/p  
p id="E4555" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4556" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4557" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""I am so sorry, Douard," he said. The old koopa put his hand on the priest's shoulder and gave it a light squeeze./span/p  
p id="E4558" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4559" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4560" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""I know," Douard said. "So am I."/span/p  
p id="E4561" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E4562" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E4563" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4564" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4565" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Godash had sent word throughout the city that there would be a public execution the next morning, though he hadn't released a name. He'd grown increasingly paranoid, and didn't want to risk word getting out to the rebellion until the deed was done. /span/p  
p id="E4566" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4567" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4568" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"He also wanted his new Grand Magus, a wizard named Flassa, to have the chance to lay down as many magical traps as he could on the outskirts of the city. They wouldn't be much of a match for Wunderweiss, but Godash was counting on his cowardice to keep him from returning anywhere near the capital./span/p  
p id="E4569" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4570" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4571" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"As evening drew its dark blanket across the sky, Godash sat on the Emperor's balcony, sipping wine and trying to decompress. He'd spent most of the day trying to figure out the Empire's newfound money problem, along with handling field reports from various commanding officers around the nation. Defection had come almost to a complete halt, thankfully, and a few units had returned to the fold, begging forgiveness for their temporary leave of reason. These men and women he'd ordered executed on sight. The narrative became crystal clear; 'Rebel and die'. /span/p  
p id="E4572" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4573" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4574" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Gannondorf had claimed that Bowser would be his undoing. He couldn't imagine a lowly mutant undoing his decades of plotting and manipulations, not at first. However, given how things were going now, he slowly began to see that he had been too arrogant, too cocksure of his cunning. Now, if he wasn't careful, he would pay the ultimate price for such hubris./span/p  
p id="E4575" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4576" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4577" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"He needed someone like Ardin, but the toadstool freelancer was said to be dead, slain by a poorly aimed Bullet Bill while traveling. The Shadow were gone, having sided with the rebels. His options were limited for an assassin or strike force. /span/p  
p id="E4578" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4579" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4580" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""I'll figure something out," he said to himself. "I always do."/span/p  
p id="E4581" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E4582" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E4583" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4584" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4585" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Father Harvin, like all members of the clergy, served his flock before serving the Empire. Even during the rebellion, priests of all faiths were allowed free passage wherever they went, traveling unmolested. This had been ever true, and even applied to those priests from Mushroom Kingdom who, on occasion, passed into Empire territory. Gora Empire was almost universally secular, as was the Mushroom Kingdom, but neither government had ever gone out of its way to step on the toes of any form of worship deemed lawful./span/p  
p id="E4586" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4587" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4588" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"So it was that he was able to hop through several Warp Zones over the course of half a day, arriving just outside of Telucha as evening took deep hold. His mount, a loyal steed he named Klutz, was flagging badly by the time he passed into the city, locating a stables quickly. As he paid the stablehand for his services, he asked, "You wouldn't happen to know a young man named Bowser, would you, sir? I've a letter for him." The stablehand, a paratroopa dressed like an assassin, smiled wickedly at him./span/p  
p id="E4589" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4590" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4591" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Oh yeah, I know him, padre." He offered his hand to shake and said, "Name's Rompus."/span/p  
p id="E4592" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E4593" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E4594" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4595" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4596" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Bowser sat out on the hotel's back deck, a mug of steaming coffee on a small end table at his right side, the letter open on his lap. Silence surrounded him, but this was false quiet, brought on by his inability to process those sounds he could detect in town due to what Douard's final words to him were. It wasn't an overly long letter./span/p  
p id="E4597-owchain-0" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" data-ow-chain="orphan"span id="E4598" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4599-owchain-0" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" data-ow-chain="orphan"'My great pupil, Bowser,' it began. 'Know this- if you are reading this, then I am either already/span/p  
/div  
/div  
div class="qowt-page-container" style="margin: auto auto 5mm; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; -webkit-user-select: none; box-shadow: #d1d1d1 0px 0px 0px 1px, #cccccc 0px 0px 4px 1px; font-size: medium; height: 279.3650793650793mm; width: 215.8730158730159mm; cursor: text !important; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-size: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial;"  
div id="E-101" class="qowt-section qowt-eid-E95" style="-webkit-user-select: text; -webkit-column-count: 1; padding-left: 90pt; padding-right: 90pt;"  
p id="E4597-owchain-1" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" data-ow-chain="widow"span id="E4599-owchain-1" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" data-ow-chain="widow"dead, or am about to be. Do not attempt some foolhardy rescue, for it would only end badly for you. Instead, heed these words- the days of the Empire and its caste system must end. The rampant corruption which has sickened this nation, rotting it from the inside, must be cleansed. This nation was once the most revered of all the lands of Famicom, when it was a kingdom-republic. If you love this land and its people, you must fight to make it such a place again, a land where all voices are equal, and none is considered unworthy by the accident of birth. Go now, my boy, and remember well all the lessons I have taught you.'/span/p  
p id="E4600" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4601" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4602" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"If Douard was dead, it would mark yet another person close to him killed because of Benjamin Godash. /spanspan id="E4603" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"No 'if' on this one. When is more appropriate. /spanspan id="E4604" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Would the rebellion falter upon hearing word of the philosopher's demise? He didn't know, but soon enough, he would find out./span/p  
p id="E4605" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E4606" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E4607" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4608" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4609" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Gannondorf growled as he removed another layer of bandages, tossing the bloody things aside like so much detritus. He cursed the young elven man named Link, removing his clothes and easing down into the hot spring off the main chamber of his mountain fastness. A pumice stone in hand, he scrubbed at the quickly healing wounds, grimacing, uttering epithets as he washed. /span/p  
p id="E4610" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4611" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4612" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"He had removed the enchantment on the Coins upon his latest return from Gora, vowing to be finished with the business between them and the Mushroom Kingdom. It had been fun, toying with such insignificant creatures for a time, but he could ill afford such distractions now that the Kingdom of Hyrule had him branded for execution on sight. Were it not for his secret lair and its bounty of natural resources, he might have been forced to flee to the lands of Sega. /span/p  
p id="E4613" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4614" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4615" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Gannon found his thoughts straying toward one particular Gora resident, however, the young man named Bowser. His future had been rife with failures when Gannon peered into it, but his defeats were ever ephemeral, temporary. He would continue to be a menace to his enemies for a long time to come. Bowser would even become a father not too far in the future./span/p  
p id="E4616" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4617" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4618" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Some achievements outweigh our losses," he mused to the emptiness of the cavern./span/p  
p id="E4619" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E4620" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E4621" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4622" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4623" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Godash stood on the platform next to Douard, a velvet hood on over the philosopher's head to conceal his identity from the crowd. The Advisor's skin tingled, and a mad laughter kept threatening to overtake him, giddiness born from some primal part of his mind to cope with the weight of what was happening all around him./span/p  
p id="E4624" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4625" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4626" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Godash leaned in close and whispered, "I'll bet you never thought it would come to this."/span/p  
p id="E4627" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4628" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4629" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Actually, Benjamin, I've always known I would die," Douard replied, infuriatingly calm. "Every man does, eventually. But hanging? A formal execution? No, I can't say I ever saw that in my future."/span/p  
p id="E4630" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4631" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4632" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Well, it comes to you now," Godash said. "Your friends in the rebellion will cower before the Throne once you are dead. Without you, they stand for nothing."/span/p  
p id="E4633" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4634" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4635" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Ah, but you are wrong," said Douard. "They fight for my ideas, Advisor, not for me. There is something far nobler in that than in fighting to maintain a system of oppression and unquestioning obedience." /span/p  
p id="E4636" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4637" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4638" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Godash just stood trembling with anger, hatred pumping through his every thought. He was supposed to be in control, supposed to be commanding the Empire and leading it toward a glorious time of conquest, crushing the Mushroom Kingdom under heel! What had happened? Where did everything go so wrong?/span/p  
p id="E4639" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4640" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4641" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"I should have let the old fool give his speeches,/spanspan id="E4642" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" he thought. It was the first time in weeks that his internal voice spoke clearly, unobstructed by mental fog. /spanspan id="E4643" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"He wasn't a real threat when he was just talking. The moment I had him jailed, I opened up the door for this rebellion. And now, I'm about to make a martyr of him./spanspan id="E4644" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" It was now too late to undo what he had set in motion. All he could do from this point forward was try to use what resources the Empire had left to strike back with all available force./span/p  
p id="E4645" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4646" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4647" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"He leaned in one more time to Douard and whispered, "I should have left you alone. I realize that now." But the philosopher made no reply, offered no retort. Godash nudged him forward, where the executioner fitted the noose around his neck and removed the velvet bag, drawing a gasp from the crowd./span/p  
p id="E4648" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4649" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4650" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"A minute later, the trap door fell open, and the Empire's greatest thinker dropped to his demise./span/p  
/div  
/div  
div class="qowt-page-container" style="margin: auto auto 5mm; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; -webkit-user-select: none; box-shadow: #d1d1d1 0px 0px 0px 1px, #cccccc 0px 0px 4px 1px; font-size: medium; height: 279.3650793650793mm; width: 215.8730158730159mm; cursor: text !important; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-size: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial;" /div 


	24. Chapter 24- Final Stretch

Meechum sat in his new office, reading through a field report from one of his commanders. He was ostensibly Bowser's second now, and he had begun laying out the groundwork for establishing a new national constitution, utilizing a kingdom-republic framework similar to what had been before the Gora Empire.

Key officials and political operatives already onboard with the rebellion had been sent for, and the top commanders would also be joining him later in the afternoon to establish new maps and structural layouts. Each region would be represented by two senators, regardless of size, and those senators would debate upon and select a king to lead the nation to replace the Empire. Meechum already had his nomination in mind.

There came a knock at his door two hours before the meeting was slated to begin. "Enter," he said. In strode Prince Renoit, who had forsaken his royal title, and now went simply by his other title, Shadowcaster. "Ah, Renoit. Please, take a seat. There's apple juice and coffee over there." Renoit stopped over to a bureau, poured himself coffee, and sat down heavily. "What news?"

"One of my people managed to examine the bodies from Prince Tangerine's slaughter. His findings were completely inconsistent with the official story given by their Royal coronor."

"Please explain."

"The koopas had been dead at least three days longer than Tangerine. The whole thing was staged. Not only that, he also found that the arrows that killed Tangerine had oils from human skin along their shafts. We believe that, after spending time with Douard in the dungeons of the Heavenly Palace, Prince Tangerine had become convinced that the war was unnecessary. King Toadstool didn't want to hear such talk, and like as not had his son killed." Meechum almost sprayed his juice at this.

"Do you really think he would do such a thing?"

"Edward, allow me to share something with you, something that was known until now only to myself and the Emperor." He sipped his coffee, slouching down some in his seat so he could comfortably cross one foot up onto the other knee. "Do you recall, fifteen years ago, when Queen Talia was killed in a botched assassination?"

"I recall reading about it, yes. It sparked a year-long series of border skirmishes. Why?"

"I never ordered an attempt on the Mushroom King," Renoit said flatly. "We said nothing at the time, because we had no part in it. The queen's murderer was her husband, the king." Meechum shook his head, stunned to silence. "The Emperor knew that refuting such an accusation would be a confirmation of the Shadow's existence, and at the time, he did not want our citizenry knowing about us. So he did the best thing at the time, which was to ignore the matter altogether."

Meechum leaned over his papers on his one remaining forearm. "Our new nation will know of the Shadow, Renoit. Are you comfortable with that?"

"Knowing we're there doesn't harm our efficacy," Renoit replied with a dark grin. "But back to our findings and what they mean. Edward, whenever the rebellion is over, whether we win out or lose, whoever's left will likely have to face an onslaught from the Mushroom Kingdom. We've already got reports of massive troop movement to the old border."

"We can't very well afford to send units back east right now," Meechum groused. "Have Wunderweiss send the best mages we can spare toward the border, along with ten of our drill tanks. It isn't much, but every bit helps. Have those mages scrounge up volunteers among the citizenry to act as border guards."

"Of course," said Renoit, getting up to leave. "Before I forget, in case I'm not back in time for the meeting, I'd like to put forth a nominee for the title of king."

"Oh? Who were you thinking, Renoit?"

"Bowser." Meechum took out a brand new notebook, and wrote down Bowser's name with two hashmarks. Renoit may have said it first, but the senators would hear the same name from

Edward Meechum.

The paratroopas gathered before Godash were fidgeting and adjusting their garments, all of them grunting and complaining about the way the robes and vestments bunched in uncomfortable places. The Advisor grabbed up his megaphone and cleared his throat meaningfully, garnering their attention.

"I understand that a few of you have reservations about what you've been asked to do," he began, beginning to pace in the Royal Garden. "Some of you think it sacreligious. You would probably be right," he said, which got a few uncomfortable laughs. "Let us not forget why you're doing this, though. The Empire faces the most serious threat ever, a disease which eats it from the inside. This rebellion must be squashed, my friends, and the will of the Emperor known! Our country was on the verge of expansion, of victory over our hated neighbors, the Mushroom Kingdom! Would you stand by and allow these upstart devotees of a disgraced philosopher undermine that glory?"

"NO," the paratroopas all barked in unison.

"Then go forth, and carry out your mission, and may the gods smile upon you all!" The soldiers, dressed all as members of a clergy convention, began filing through the Warp Zone pipes, heading for their final destination- Telucha.

Bowser opened the paper Meechum had sent just before the meeting of senators began, and grunted. He handed the paper to his chief assistant, who then ran off across the factory floor for the foreman. The PA system crackled to life, and the foreman's watery voice filled the air.

"Okay, people, we're going to wrap up this line and one more, then call it. Add one more layer of armor plating to the last line, and equip the remaining ammo boxes on them. We're launching the Rolling Furies tomorrow!" Cheers went up from every assembly worker, and when the applause died down, the final works were set to with haste. The foreman came down from his office, shaking Bowser's hand enthusiastically. "So, these senators are meeting in a short bit, huh?"

"That's my understanding," said Bowser, arms folded over his chest.

"You thinking about tossing your hat in the ring, general? For king?"

"No," said Bowser, watching with quiet joy the mechanical workings taking place before him. "I would be content to remain here, a simple engineer. I think my lady would probably prefer that as well."

"Don't count on it," said Welik, putting one arm around his waist and giving a brief squeeze. "He's too modest for his own good," she stage whispered to the foreman. She planted a quick kiss on Bowser's cheek. "I'm going to go check in with commander Bettis, make sure everyone's ready to haul out."

"Of course, dear. I'll be here," Bowser said, smiling softly after her. When Welik was gone, he faced the foreman and said, "I understand you managed to get some new power concentration boxes out of Sega recently. Mind if I see them?"

"Follow me," said the foreman. The two began jabbering animatedly about the machines, and Bowser found himself at peace, despite the next day's business. In less than twenty-four hours, he would be leading a rush on the capital.

All but one of the paratroopas lay face-down in the grass just outside of the Warp Zone known as North Zone 2, shackles on their wrists and wings, scruffy looking veterans holding them down with spear butts. Jaime had shrugged out of his fake wings as soon as he'd been identified and helped up by his fellow Shadow operative, a chubby koopa named Botto attached to the rebellion's rear guard.

"It was a good thing you caught wind of this," said Botto, rubbing his prodigeous belly. "These are no standard bombs these blokes were carrying."

"How do you mean?"

"They're filled with Power Mushroom and Fire Flower oil," said Botto. "These'd blow up and then keep burning until they was put out with sand or foam. Water'd just spread the oil around."

"By the gods," Jaime said, looking around at the false priests. "Of course, you realize this also means we're going to have to start checking every clergyman at Warp Zones."

"Yeah, that's a bummer," said Botto. "My brother Chiru is a priest. He was going to visit some time."

"Well, send him a letter, tell him to wait until the rebellion becomes the People," said Jaime. Botto nodded, and they proceeded to help load the would-be bombers into transport wagons for nearby lockups.

Meechum thanked the newly appointed senators for their input and for having a constructive first session. They weren't even the permanent or prevailing government yet, and already they had collectively begun political maneuvers. He had expected as much, but at least they all seemed to overwhelmingly agree on one thing-

By a vote of 43 to 7, Bowser Koopa would be named King. The only other nominee had been Edward Meechum, and he was very much a gracious loser.

It had been only three hours since the bombers were captured when word got back to Godash, who immediately called for all Loyal battalions to fall back west and secure a new front line thirty miles from the capital. He'd been tempted to issue orders to raze every inch of farmland east of that front, but he knew this would not stand. Even in the grips of madness when he was younger, the Emperor would never order such a thing done.

He followed this by commanding Eagle Division to come out of its relative hibernation and take the northernmost and southernmost portions of the new border and defend them aggressively. It would take at least four days of steady Warp Zone movement and marching to move the entire Division into place, but it could be done.

By raw numbers of military forces, his side of the conflict held a considerable advantage, numbering almost double the troops of the rebellion. Yet the rebels now had Wunderweiss the mage, Bowser the engineer, and Meechum, a charismatic and efficient leader. Half of the Hammer Brothers had defected, and the Shadow been supporting the rebels probably from the start.

Numbers gave him little comfort when he considered the foes arrayed against him. When quantity was put against quality, the latter almost always won.

Bowser watched the sky begin to lighten, the sun only minutes away from creeping up over the horizon. He checked his dials and gauges, using the comm link he designed prior to the assembly of the new fleet of assault karts to contact his two sergeants of the Rolling Fury unit. "Sergeant Welik, sergeant Mendoza, do you read me?"

"Loud and clear," said Welik.

"Affirmative," said Mendoza, a burly red tribe koopa formerly leading a cavalry unit.

"Remember to use the color flares and back mount screens to guide the other drivers and mounted infantry. Marching forces are already on the move since last night." He toggled on his display map in the upper-right corner of his visor shield. "We're currently on comms channel three. Channel one is connected to general Meechum, and should only be used for occasional updates. Channel two is for commanders Jask and Hetin of the infantry. Channel four is commander Setsok of the cavalry. Channel six is Wunderweiss. Channel seven is an all-contact channel, only for emergencies or battalion-wide information drops. Understood?"

"Aye, sir," said Mendoza.

"Yes, love," said Welik. The sun came up then, its first radiant beams lighting the way before them.

"Then let's ride," said Bowser.


	25. Chapter 25- Blitzkreig

div class="qowt-page-container" style="margin: auto auto 5mm; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; -webkit-user-select: none; box-shadow: #d1d1d1 0px 0px 0px 1px, #cccccc 0px 0px 4px 1px; height: 279.3650793650793mm; width: 215.8730158730159mm; cursor: text !important; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-size: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial;"  
div id="E-106" class="qowt-section qowt-eid-E95" style="-webkit-user-select: text; -webkit-column-count: 1; padding-left: 90pt; padding-right: 90pt;"  
p id="E4828" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4830" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Bowser couldn't deny his core nature, which was governed by a slavering, rampaging dragon that delighted in obliterating everything in its path that would defy it. Yet that beast possessed a horrifying intelligence, and he issued orders and implemented adjustments as they came upon Loyal forces which left no doubt whatsoever about who would win each portion of the battle./span/p  
p id="E4831" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4832" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4833" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"The rebellion lost twenty footsoldiers and a single kart against a Loyal battalion of seven-hundred men./span/p  
p id="E4834" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4835" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4836" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"That first day moving toward the capital saw two more pitched battles, and no more assault karts were lost, though nearly a quarter of their cavalry died against Loyal mages and soldiers. Their losses were modest at most, but the Advisor's forces had taken a thorough beating. /span/p  
p id="E4837" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4838" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4839" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"The second day saw more of the same, though three more assault karts were lost to Loyal mousers, suicide bombers who charged the karts with wild abandon. It would have been more, but Bowser's other drivers caught on quick and left those to archers among the marching infantry./span/p  
p id="E4840" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4841" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4842" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"In two days, over seven battles, the rebellion lost only ninety-six troops, while the Loyal casualties reached nearly seven-thousand. /span/p  
p id="E4843" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4844" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4845" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"By the third day, his battalion had ceased to see any enemy troops. Word came back from Shadow agents ranging ahead that the Emperor had recalled every battalion in the center stretches to fall back to the capital. Bowser didn't care for that at all./span/p  
p id="E4846" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4847" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4848" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"He clicked over to channel six as he drove along at midday. "Wunderweiss, this is Bowser, copy?"/span/p  
p id="E4849" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4850" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4851" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Copy, Your Majesty," the mage said with a snicker./span/p  
p id="E4852" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4853" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4854" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Knock it off," Bowser grunted. "Hook up with a horseman and scout ahead for magical traps. I'm going to put us all on halt, copy." Wunderweiss just double-clicked his end, letting Bowser know he acknowledged the order. Bowser switched over to channel eight. "This is general Bowser, calling all halt," he said, bringing his kart to a stop and killing the engine./span/p  
p id="E4855" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4856" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4857" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"He climbed out, taking a long drink of water as Welik walked over from her vehicle. "What gives, love?"/span/p  
p id="E4858" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4859" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4860" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Too quiet ahead," he replied. "You know, when we reach the capital, we'll all be on foot," he said quietly. "I want you to stay close to me." She blushed, shoved him lightly./span/p  
p id="E4861" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4862" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4863" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Well look at you, all Prince Valiant and everything," she chided playfully. "I've seen plenty of combat, you know."/span/p  
p id="E4864" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4865" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4866" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""I know. Still, I'd feel more comfortable if I knew where you were at." Bowser nodded, then squared himself up as three commanders approached, one from the cavalry and to from the infantry. They gave him a formal salute, which he returned in kind. "What news?"/span/p  
p id="E4867" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4868" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4869" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Word from the northern and southern ends of the front," said the cavalry commander, a blue tribe koopa named Rawlins. "They've managed a modest push in the north, but fighting is at a standstill in the south, forces fairly evenly matched. Segeant Havich of the rearguard also sends word from the east that more Mushroom Kingdom troops are massing along the border. He wants to know if we should send skirmishers."/span/p  
p id="E4870" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4871" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4872" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Tell him not to engage, but also inform him that we should try to get more volunteers to shore up our own rearguard positions," said Bowser. "Send word back to Factory 7 to produce another line of Rolling Furies to be mobilized to the eastern border." Rawlins saluted and took off to carry out his orders, leaving Bowser and Welik alone, their forces taking a much-deserved respite nearby. Bowser looked out on them, quietly asking, "How many of them know the results of the senators' vote?"/span/p  
p id="E4873" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4874" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4875" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Strictly the commanders and a few sergeants, love, and they all have gag orders."/span/p  
p id="E4876" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4877" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4878" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""We're only assuming they're holding to those. Still, better than nothing. Tanya, if something should happen to me, you must promise to serve Meechum as best you can." She just nodded and kissed him softly on the cheek./span/p  
p id="E4879" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4880" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4881" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Let's hope that isn't necessary," she whispered. /span/p  
p id="E4882" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E4883" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E4884-owchain-0" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" data-ow-chain="orphan"span id="E4885" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4886-owchain-0" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" data-ow-chain="orphan"Godash felt a proper fool for not having issued this order earlier. The entire civilian population of the city had been packed off and sent west, every residence filled with soldiers and weaponry. If the rebellion wanted to take the seat of power, they'd have to defeat an entire Division's worth of troops. He knew they didn't have those kind of numbers coming, and they would be forced to leave behind their assault karts and cavalry horses when entering the city proper. Without those/span/p  
/div  
/div  
div class="qowt-page-container" style="margin: auto auto 5mm; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; -webkit-user-select: none; box-shadow: #d1d1d1 0px 0px 0px 1px, #cccccc 0px 0px 4px 1px; height: 279.3650793650793mm; width: 215.8730158730159mm; cursor: text !important; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-size: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial;"  
div id="E-107" class="qowt-section qowt-eid-E95" style="-webkit-user-select: text; -webkit-column-count: 1; padding-left: 90pt; padding-right: 90pt;"  
p id="E4884-owchain-1" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" data-ow-chain="widow"span id="E4886-owchain-1" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" data-ow-chain="widow"advantages, Bowser and his troops would be destroyed handily./span/p  
p id="E4887" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4888" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4889" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Godash sipped his wine and looked out over the city from the Emperor's balcony. "It will end soon, this nonsense," he said to the simulacrum, which sat silently in one of the deck chairs. "And when it is over, I will turn the full might of this Empire on the Mushroom Kingdom. They will fall under my heel, and Gora will reign supreme!" He swigged down the rest of his drink, then tossed the thin-stemmed glass over the railing. "Why can I not shake this dread? What is this feeling of loss I suffer?"/span/p  
p id="E4890" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4891" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4892" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"He glowered at the simulacrum, its dead eyes staring vacantly at nothing. It offered no response, yet filled him with the very sensation he spoke of. Godash snarled at the living puppet and stormed back into the Emperor's chamber, leaving it to sit in the sunlight filtering down on the balcony./span/p  
p id="E4893" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4894" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4895" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"When he looked at it, he saw the truth of the Gora Empire- it was a lifeless husk./span/p  
p id="E4896" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E4897" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E4898" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4899" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4900" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"There had quickly arisen talk among the displaced, angry grumblings about the Emperor having lost his mind or his backbone. Long-time residents of the capital began exchanging stories about the glory days, but soon enough these gave way to tales of Impirial corruption and ham-fisted extortion. Change floated on the wind, some said, and it would be wise to stop and listen to that breeze before going on and trying to settle into a new town west of the capital./span/p  
p id="E4901" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4902" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4903" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"What nobody realized, as they began giving serious examination to the idea of joining the rebellion and turning back upon the capital, was that they had been struck, all of them, by one of the most potent weapons ever conceived. It had been one that the people had been hit with many times, never noticing. It was a weapon against which no armor or shield could defend./span/p  
p id="E4904" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4905" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4906" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Jaime and the rest of Renoit's Shadow agents, mingling among the cast-off denizens of the capital, cut through these people's loyalties with the hot blades of misinformation and subtle propoganda. They flitted from one cluster of civilians to the next, stopping only to cross-check with one another who had been convinced and who hadn't./span/p  
p id="E4907" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4908" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4909" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"It was a slow operation in comparison to a battle of blood, but when it was over after two days, a Division's worth of angry people were heading back to the capital with whatever weapons and skills they could muster./span/p  
p id="E4910" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4911" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4912" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"And the Advisor and his troops had no idea./span/p  
p id="E4913" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E4914" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E4915" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4916" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4917" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Wunderweiss returned to the camp the following morning, tapping on Bowser's tent flap. When the huge koopa came out, wrapped in a blanket, the purple-shelled mage smirked at him knowingly. "Have a good evening, sire?"/span/p  
p id="E4918" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4919" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4920" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Beyond good. You?"/span/p  
p id="E4921" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4922" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4923" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Ample, though not as fleshy or full of sweat as yours."/span/p  
p id="E4924" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4925" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4926" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Don't be crude. What say you?"/span/p  
p id="E4927" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4928" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4929" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""The traps have been laid bare and removed," said Wunderweiss, bowing grandly. "I was masterful, if I do say so myself."/span/p  
p id="E4930" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4931" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4932" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""No one else here to say it for you."/span/p  
p id="E4933" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4934" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4935" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""True. And were you masterful?"/span/p  
p id="E4936" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4937" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4938" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""There were no complaints."/span/p  
p id="E4939" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4940" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4941" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Well, you're rather large. Perhaps you couldn't hear her begging for release under your torso." Bowser snorted a laugh and punched him on the shoulder. "The way ahead is clear, lordship."/span/p  
p id="E4942" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4943" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4944" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Good. Start rousing sergeants, we'll get moving as soon as we can." An hour later, Bowser climbed up into his kart, activating all of his systems. He didn't want any unwelcome surprises, so he got the weapons armed in the event the Emperor had any troops on the move from the city./span/p  
p id="E4945" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4946" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4947" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"After a quick check-in with the other officers hooked into communications, Bowser led the rebel forces on their way./span/p  
p id="E4948" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E4949" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E4950-owchain-0" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" data-ow-chain="orphan"span id="E4951" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4952-owchain-0" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" data-ow-chain="orphan"Two veterans of middle age tossed dice against the outer wall of one of the border buildings on the capital's west end, passing time until the inevitable arrival of the rebels. Considering they would be coming from the east and be faced with Hammer Brothers in the city proper, these two/span/p  
/div  
/div  
div class="qowt-page-container" style="margin: auto auto 5mm; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; -webkit-user-select: none; box-shadow: #d1d1d1 0px 0px 0px 1px, #cccccc 0px 0px 4px 1px; height: 279.3650793650793mm; width: 215.8730158730159mm; cursor: text !important; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-size: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial;"  
div id="E-109" class="qowt-section qowt-eid-E95" style="-webkit-user-select: text; -webkit-column-count: 1; padding-left: 90pt; padding-right: 90pt;"  
p id="E4950-owchain-1" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" data-ow-chain="widow"span id="E4952-owchain-1" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" data-ow-chain="widow"figured they'd see no combat any time soon./span/p  
p id="E4953" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4954" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4955" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Oh, tough luck, that," said one as his partner rolled snake-eyes. The unlucky koopa grumbled wordlessly, holding the dice out to his comrade. /span/p  
p id="E4956" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4957" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4958" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Yeah, well, let's remember the score, eh? I still got you by eleven." His partner rolled a nine, and they traded barbs again, never once looking carefully to the west, where a cloud of movement advanced toward them, kicked up by the very people they had displaced two days earlier./span/p  
p id="E4959" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E4960" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E4961" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4962" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4963" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Bowser could see the Heavenly Palace rising up from the center of the city clearly, only fifteen miles out from the edge of the capital with his contingent. At the five mile mark they would come to a full halt and reorganize, and Bowser would take a field report from Renoit. Meechum had informed him over the all-report channel that the Shadowcaster was awaiting him, and the other commanding officers were instructed to leave the two men alone./span/p  
p id="E4964" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4965" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4966" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Renoit would not waste his time. Whatever the reason for him wanting to speak to Bowser, it had to be of vital importance. As he drove along, Bowser kept his attention on the fields before him, trying to focus on the task at hand./span/p  
p id="E4967" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4968" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4969" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"The task would soon enough be bloody./span/p  
p id="E4970" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E4971" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E4972" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4973" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4974" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Renoit paced back and forth by the lone tree in the flowery field, stopping now and again to look through his spyglass to the west. If Bowser's company didn't arrive within the hour, they would show up to a battle already in progress. But even as he looked again, Renoit heard the rumble of the kart engines behind him./span/p  
p id="E4975" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4976" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4977" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Three minutes later, Bowser pulled his kart up within a few yards of the tree and clambered out, adjusting his armor as he approached. "Shadowcaster," he said with a nod./span/p  
p id="E4978" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4979" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4980" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Your Majesty," Renoit replied with a bow./span/p  
p id="E4981" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4982" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4983" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Keep that quiet for now, Renoit," Bowser rumbled. "That needn't be said unless I survive what comes. Meechum says you have news for me."/span/p  
p id="E4984" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4985" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4986" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""I do, sir. I ask you now to forgive me, for I have set in motion an action to protect us from Mushroom Kingdom hostilities upon our victory, should we prevail." Bowser raised one eyebrow at him. "Sir, I have Shadow agents inside of the Kingdom right now, in position to either act or retreat, as you command."/span/p  
p id="E4987" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4988" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4989" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""What is the action in question?"/span/p  
p id="E4990" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4991" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4992" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""The abduction of Princess Peach and her handmaids," said Renoit. Bowser sucked wind through his teeth, as I sucker-punched. "I understand that you don't like this move one bit, sir, but you must start thinking like a politician now. If the Mushroom King discovers we have his sole successor, we can buy ourselves time to prepare for yet another war."/span/p  
p id="E4993" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4994" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4995" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Bowser planted his hands on his hips, shaking his head sadly. "We were acquaintances, she and I."/span/p  
p id="E4996" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E4997" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E4998" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""I know, sir."/span/p  
p id="E4999" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E5000" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5001" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""She's going to think me a monster if I approve of this."/span/p  
p id="E5002" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E5003" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5004" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""I know, sir."/span/p  
p id="E5005" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E5006" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5007" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""But it's for the good of our people, isn't it?"/span/p  
p id="E5008" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E5009" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5010" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Yes, sir." Bowser sighed, and nodded./span/p  
p id="E5011" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E5012" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5013" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Very well, then. The moment they receive word of our victory or defeat, have them make their move. Until this is over, though, they hold ready."/span/p  
p id="E5014" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E5015" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5016" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Aye, King Bowser." Renoit flitted away, faster than any koopa had a right to naturally move. Bowser hung his head and thought, /spanspan id="E5017" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"If I must be named villain for the good of my nation, then so be it./span/p  
p id="E5018" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E5019" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E5020" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E5021" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5022" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"The guards at the city's west end were not much different than other soldiers in armies across the world. Show them their own citizens, and their standard reaction will be to amiably greet them and ask if there's any way they can be of service. It was perhaps because of this trained reaction, long honed in these two veterans, that they fell under a deluge of sling balls and thrown tools./span/p  
p id="E5023-owchain-0" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" data-ow-chain="orphan"span id="E5024" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5025-owchain-0" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" data-ow-chain="orphan"The barrage alone would have been survivable, but the crush of bodies stampeding over them proved fatal. The first deaths of that final push in the rebellion came not at the tip of a sword or/span/p  
/div  
/div  
div class="qowt-page-container" style="margin: auto auto 5mm; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; -webkit-user-select: none; box-shadow: #d1d1d1 0px 0px 0px 1px, #cccccc 0px 0px 4px 1px; height: 279.3650793650793mm; width: 215.8730158730159mm; cursor: text !important; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-size: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial;"  
div id="E-110" class="qowt-section qowt-eid-E95" style="-webkit-user-select: text; -webkit-column-count: 1; padding-left: 90pt; padding-right: 90pt;"  
p id="E5023-owchain-1" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" data-ow-chain="widow"span id="E5025-owchain-1" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" data-ow-chain="widow"blast of magic, but under the calloused feet of a hard-working people who'd had enough./span/p  
p id="E5026" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E5027" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E5028" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E5029" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5030" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"When Bowser brandished his axes, he realized that he could already hear the commotion of battle in the city. Had someone else managed to get through before his own contingent? Had Renoit staged a distraction? Whatever the explanation, he led his people in with a resounding war cry, thousands of rebels hollering with him as they descended on the Loyals./span/p  
p id="E5031" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E5032" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5033" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"His first kill was a veteran yellow tribe, a spear wielder whose opening thrust he dodged with a nimble spin, following his own momentum through with an axe, shearing the man's head in half at a diagonal. The force of his attac rendered the helmet useless./span/p  
p id="E5034" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E5035" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5036" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Paratroopas flung arrows at him, but he brought these down with gouts of flame, reducing them to burning, screaming conflagrations on legs, kicking against the reaper as he came to claim their lives. Several fell atop their fellow Loyals, creating pockets of fiery death among the enemy./span/p  
p id="E5037" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E5038" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5039" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"A rapier-wielding Loyal tried to get around Bowser's side, but he spun and leaped backwards on him, using his spikes and weight to run him through. As he stood up, sergeant Welik pulled the dead man off. "Neat," she said with a savage grin./span/p  
p id="E5040" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E5041" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5042" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Thank you." The duo tore into their next foes, handily carving a path up the street. All around them, the final battle of Douard's Rebellion raged on./span/p  
p id="E5043" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E5044" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E5045" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E5046" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5047" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Godash stood with Chenok, First of the Hammer Brothers, looking out over the city. Behind them, the simulacrum, on cue, spoke to the huge black shell koopa. "Chenok, you are to stand final guard in the antechamber. You will defend me and my Advisor to the last."/span/p  
p id="E5048" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E5049" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5050" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Aye, Emperor," rumbled the hulking koopa, a man almost as tall and broad as Bowser. His voice came out muffled by the faceplate of his skull-shaped helmet. In his left hand he carried a tower shield of dark blue, a chromatic match for his segmented plate armor, which covered his entire body. On his left hip, handle up for a cross-draw, sat a single combat hammer, glowing with a golden light. "Advisor Godash, the Emperor's will is clearly to have you remain here, where it is safe. Should I fall, you will delay the assailants until he can escape."/span/p  
p id="E5051" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E5052" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5053" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""I understand," said Godash. He watched with mounting dread as one particular clutch of rebel soldiers cleaved their way toward the palace with alarming alacrity. Chenok exited then, leaving him to view Bowser's progress toward him./span/p  
p id="E5054" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E5055" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E5056" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E5057" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5058" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Bowser and Welik, along with several elite veteran rebels and four mages and Wunderweiss, barged through the palace's barricade and stormed through those troops assembled in the entrance foyer. When all were fallen or fled, Bowser holstered one axe and took Wunderweiss by the shoulder. "Wizard, I need you to go down to the dungeon and set free the prisoners."/span/p  
p id="E5059" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E5060" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5061" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Right."/span/p  
p id="E5062" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E5063" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5064" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Also," Bowser said, holding him still, "I need you to try and find something for me." He whispered his request into the wizard's ear, then released him. "If you find it, bring it up to me in the throne room's antechamber. Do you understand?" Wunderweiss nodded, grabbed two soldiers, and took off down a hallway to the east. Bowser regarded the others, taking up his second axe again, dripping gore. "All right. We ascend now toward the throne room. At the antechamber, there will likely be the Emperor's finest warriors. If you chose, you need not risk entering with me." /span/p  
p id="E5065" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E5066" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5067" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"The other soldiers and Welik said nothing, and he grinned as he led them on, toward Advisor Benjamin Godash./span/p  
p id="E5068" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E5069" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E5070" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E5071" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5072" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"On the seventh floor, after slaughtering scores of soldiers of all sorts, Bowser came upon the doors that would lead him into the throne room's antechamber. Three of the veterans had fallen on the way, along with two mages. Bowser had been stabbed in the left arm, and Welik had a deep spear wound in her right thigh, partially healed by one of the surviving mages. Bowser looked to his fellows, saw their resolve, and ducked his head, shoulder charging the doors open./span/p  
p id="E5073" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E5074" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5075" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Before him stood a long, wide chamber decorated with tapestries and paintings depicting Gora Empire's history. Several columns rose to support the cathedral ceiling, creating a wide central aisle space to the throne room doors./span/p  
/div  
/div  
div class="qowt-page-container" style="margin: auto auto 5mm; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; -webkit-user-select: none; box-shadow: #d1d1d1 0px 0px 0px 1px, #cccccc 0px 0px 4px 1px; height: 279.3650793650793mm; width: 215.8730158730159mm; cursor: text !important; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-size: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial;"  
div id="E-111" class="qowt-section qowt-eid-E95" style="-webkit-user-select: text; -webkit-column-count: 1; padding-left: 90pt; padding-right: 90pt;"  
p id="E5076" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"br /span id="E5077" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5078" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Halfway between stood a lone stalwart Hammer Brother in a finely crafted blue armor suit, made of segmented plates. In his left hand he held a tower shield, in his right, a glowing hammer. Bowser cast a glance around at the pillars, but spotted no sign of hidden guards. He faced the lone warrior and took three strides forward. /span/p  
p id="E5079" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E5080" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5081" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Be you alone, Hammer Brother," Bowser asked./span/p  
p id="E5082" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E5083" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5084" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Aye. Stands before you Chenok, First of the Hammer Brothers, sworn defender of the Emperor. And thou art whom?"/span/p  
p id="E5085" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E5086" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5087" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""I," Bowser began, breathing deep, puffing out his chest under his own armor, "am King Koopa Bowser, selected by the newly formed Senate that shall govern this nation after today. I am the student of Arnold Douard, this rebellion's namesake, son of Luther and Cassandra Entem, and enemy to the tyranny of Benjamin Godash." None of his words seemed to faze the Hammer Brother. /span/p  
p id="E5088" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E5089" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5090" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Shall we engage one another in honorable combat, then? Man to man, with no outsiders," asked Chenok. "If so, and I am victorious, I shall spare thy friends." Bowser kept his eyes on Chenok and motioned behind him with his weapons for the others to back up./span/p  
p id="E5091" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E5092" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5093" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""We shall," he said. /span/p  
p id="E5094" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E5095" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5096" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""It is well," said Chenok, raising his hammer toward Bowser like the tip of a sword. "En garde!" Before Bowser could take a step forward, a golden bolt shot from the hammer, shaped like the weapon itself, spiraling end-over-end. Bowser brough his axes up in an 'X', blocking the bolt but rocking back on his heels. His companions behind him shut the doors, staying out of harm's way. Another bolt flew, and this one Bowser barely side-stepped, allowing the energy projectile to dissipate harmlessly against the doors. /span/p  
p id="E5097" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E5098" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5099" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Handy trick," Bowser said with a smile. "I've got one of my own!" He belched out a fireball, which splashed out around Chenok harmlessly, flagging into smoke. "What is this?"/span/p  
p id="E5100" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E5101" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5102" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Mine armor is crafted from the shells of Beetle Bailies," Chenok intoned. "Fire cannot penetrate it." Bowser evaded two more hammer bolts, moving toward Chenok with each dodge. When he closed to striking range he swung hard with his right axe, which met the Hammer Brother's shield with a loud clang. Chenok countered with a belly-level swing of his hammer, which struck true, knocking Bowser back, armor dented. "Yours is but standard steel."/span/p  
p id="E5103" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E5104" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5105" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Not quite," Bowser rumbled, turning around so his spiked shell faced Chenok. He crouched down and whispered to his armor, "Fire." His entire body pounded through the air, propelled by the will of his sentient steel armor. The material used for making Bullet Bills had been used to craft his protection, giving him a unique set of attacks and defenses, none of which he'd had to use yet. At his back came a loud grunt as he crashed into Chenok, followed by Bowser putting his feet on the ground and spinning to face the Hammer Brother./span/p  
p id="E5106" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E5107" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5108" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"The shield had saved Chenok, though now it was embedded on Bowser's spikes. The force of the blow had thrown the Ammer Brother into column, which stood cracked and chipped, a slab of concrete and dust laying in his lap as he tried to stand. /span/p  
p id="E5109" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E5110" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5111" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""I offer you quarter," Bowser said, standing at the ready. "Take it now, or not at all."/span/p  
p id="E5112" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E5113" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5114" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""I need none," Chenok replied, getting to his feet. "Have at thee!" Chenok charged, hammer held out to his side. He closed, swinging hard up at an angle from the hip. Bowser blocked the swing, but the follow-up hook punch caught him in the jaw. He reeled aside, a punishing blow from the hammer pounding his breastplate. The steel groaned inward, but a second blow came and was blocked, the Hammer Brother swept to the floor by a tail-spin into his knees./span/p  
p id="E5115" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E5116" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5117" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Without pausing to aim and swing an axe, Bowser stomped back and down with one booted heel, rewarded with a crunch of segmented armor, bone, and a scream of agony that rattled his brain. He stumbled away several feet, and when he turned around, he saw Chenok's left leg bent at a terrible angle, shards of bone sticking out through the crushed armor. Yet the Hammer Brother was trying to stand, and he managed another burst of a projectile bolt from his hammer. /span/p  
p id="E5118" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E5119" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5120" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"The bolt glanced Bower's hip, spinning him off balance, but only for a moment. He flung himself forward, bringing his axes down on Chenok, one in his head, the other deep in his side. The helmet would have protected him against a standing blow, but with the added weight of Bowser coming down fro above, the axe head buried itself well into his skull. /span/p  
p id="E5121" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;"span id="E5122" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5123" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Chenok the First was dead./span/p  
p id="E5124" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
p id="E5125" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 0pt;" /p  
/div  
/div  
div class="qowt-page-container" style="margin: auto auto 5mm; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; -webkit-user-select: none; box-shadow: #d1d1d1 0px 0px 0px 1px, #cccccc 0px 0px 4px 1px; height: 279.3650793650793mm; width: 215.8730158730159mm; cursor: text !important; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-size: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial;"  
div id="E-112" class="qowt-section qowt-eid-E95" style="-webkit-user-select: text; -webkit-column-count: 1; padding-left: 90pt; padding-right: 90pt;"  
p id="E5126" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 1.2;"br /span id="E5127" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5128" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Wunderweiss brought what Bowser had sent him for into the antechamber, and once Bowser gave instructions on what to do with Chenok's body, the veterans began seeing to it. Wunderweiss positioned Bowser's request, and the new King stalked to the throne room doors, axes holstered. He would have no need of them now./span/p  
p id="E5129" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 1.2;" /p  
p id="E5130" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 1.2;" /p  
p id="E5131" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 1.2;"span id="E5132" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5133" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Godash could hear murmurs, several voices beyond the door. He should have known Chenok would lose, that was just how things were going, pear-shaped as his colleagues used to say. He had one last desperate hope. He clutched a Coin from his money pouch and called out softly, "Gannondorf."/span/p  
p id="E5134" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 1.2;"span id="E5135" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5136" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Nothing happened. The warlock was gone, and he wasn't coming back. There was nothing more for him now than to hope that Bowser would show him mercy. /spanspan id="E5137" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-style: italic; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Right, because you've been so good with showing that to others, /spanspan id="E5138" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"he thought, giggling madly. /span/p  
p id="E5139" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 1.2;"span id="E5140" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5141" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"He was pacing when Bowser threw open the doors like a barbarian loosed on a treasury. He stood there in his battered armor, arm bleeding, spattered in blood like a savage god. "Bowser," Godash rasped, kneeling at the foot of the steps leading to the throne. "The Emperor gives you welcome."/span/p  
p id="E5142" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 1.2;"span id="E5143" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5144" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""The Emperor is a simulacrum, a soulless puppet you've used to try to rule," Bowser snarled. He took up Chenok's hammer from the back of his belt and hurled it upward. It struck the simulacrum, which burst apart in a shower of clay and mud, and fell atop the throne. Godash cried out, face ashen as he shot a look at the throne, then at Bowser. /span/p  
p id="E5145" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 1.2;"span id="E5146" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5147" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""How," Godash managed./span/p  
p id="E5148" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 1.2;"span id="E5149" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5150" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""The warlock told me everything," said Bowser. "The only reason more people didn't become aware was because of how insane such a thing would sound. Not that it mattered. You sealed the Empire's fate when you jailed Douard."/span/p  
p id="E5151" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 1.2;"span id="E5152" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5153" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Please, you don't understand, I was only trying to bring progress," Godash whined, clasping his hands before him for mercy. /span/p  
p id="E5154" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 1.2;"span id="E5155" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5156" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;""Silence," Bowser roared, his voice shaking the very room itself. "While you yet waggle your viper's tongue, even at this very last, you foul the air with lies!" Bowser drew out an axe and stomped toward Godash, who tried to get up and scurry away. But Bowser, even fatigued from fighting, caught him easily and pinned him to the floor, his massive knees on Godash's shoulders. He punced the politician in the mouth, shattering several teeth, and wormed his fingers in, snagging the tongue. He pulled it out, and as Godash gagged and howled, Bowser ran the edge of his axe through it, spraying himself with blood before getting off and turning Godash over so he wouldn't choke on his own blood./span/p  
p id="E5157" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 1.2;"span id="E5158" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5159" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"He hauled Godash to his feet like a rag doll. "That was for my people, who you deceived!" Next Bowser took Godash's hands in his own, squeezing until every frail, unworked bone snapped and crunched, causing a wordless, blood-misted spray to escape in a howl. "That, was for my mother, who died when you manipulated an assassin into position to start a war!" /span/p  
p id="E5160" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 1.2;"span id="E5161" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5162" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"Bowser snatched him finally by the collar, half dragging him to the doorway back into the antechamber, roughly shoving him out into the open floor. "And this, is for my father, whom you murdered out of petty spite!" Bowser pointed skyward, and Godash, weeping and bleeding from the mouth, looked up./span/p  
p id="E5163" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 1.2;"span id="E5164" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;" /spanspan id="E5165" class="qowt-font4-Tahoma" style="white-space: pre-wrap; font-size: 10pt; font-family: Tahoma, 'Microsoft Sans serif', sans-serif !important;"He had just enough time to realize it was a Thwomp coming down at him before he was crushed underneath it./span/p  
p id="E5166" class="qowt-stl1" style="list-style-type: none; padding: 0px; margin: 0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Tinos, 'Baskerville Old Face', 'Bell MT', serif; font-size: 10pt; text-indent: 0pt; line-height: 1.2;" /p  
/div  
/div 


	26. Chapter 26- Epilogue

X came to a fuzzy form of consciousness just long enough to realize he was being carried. He blinked up at the simian face of Swing Gollit, who offered him a grim smile. He tried to speak, but nothing came out.

"When the big guy back there died, the energy barrier that had been keeping us out dropped. We managed to pick up the human survivors on the beach, though most of them are not exactly the most desirable sorts."

"He, phae, stus," X managed.

"Yeah, we're bringing him along, what's left of him. We'd have Doc Veris examine him, if that were still an option, but it ain't. Doc's a rogue element. Caught him on surveillance in your office wasting that cop friend of yours, Marlow. Veris is a cyborg, turns out. And the leader of the Cult of Wily."

X heard all of this, but nothing else as he slipped into the ether.

Waking up again, but this time X didn't feel any of the pain of his prior awakening. He'd been repaired, and the first face he now saw belonged to Zero. "Hello, brother," the crimson reploid said with a gentle smile. "Glad to see you're back."

X had been in a stand-by state for seven days, it turned out. His entire body had been repaired after thirteen hours of extensive work, including a complete overhaul of his tactile nervous wiring. His motor function boards had been almost entirely pulverized. Rotors and pistons in all of his joints had been battered and bent out of shape. His targeting system had been burnt out, and his life force energy had been reduced to eight percent. He'd only ever been closer to death once before.

Yet despite his full repairs and recovery, his spark had remained away, keeping his systems in a state of standby. X couldn't recall what had happened to him during that time spent as a wandering spirit. He suspected it had been something important, though, something he would have to call back to.

During his comatose state, several strange power signatures had been picked up on global sensor systems, but they had been brief and had disappeared entirely after only three days. X knew what that meant, but the Hunters' systems hadn't been able to pin down a source.

All of the nuclear launch sites had been abandoned after the death of Hephaestus, the warheads unaccounted for. This news put every human government on edge, but nobody did anything rash, thankfully.

X had watched security footage from his own hidden office camera after being briefed by Zero about all of this. Sure enough, there was Dr. Veris, using a cybernetic arm blaster to turn Jasper Marlow's head into so much meat paste. X had forgotten all about the little spy camera he'd installed on his desk. It was shaped like an original Megaman head, a novelty item meant to give the impression that X had a sense of humor.

There was nothing humorous here.

X held a meeting with Zero, Axl, Swing Gollit, and Triclaw the day after he was cleared to return to duty. During that meeting, he told them about Hephaestus's plans, taking special care to warn them about Paladin. When they heard he had a Buster Cannon of his own, all four reploids shook their heads.

There would be trouble ahead.

X dismissed them, though Zero stayed behind. Standing next to one another, the two reploids stared out over the city, each one wondering when the next attack would come.

Each wondered if the Hunters would be ready for all-out war.

And each knew the humans were not.

To be continued...

-Fin-


	27. About the Author

User Byronofsidius is, in point of fact, Joshua T. Calkins-Treworgy, the author of the 'Roads Through Amelia' horror short story series produced by Untreed Reads, the Tamalarian Tales first produced by Booksforabuck, 'Motor City Shambler' (one thinking zombie's journal, copyright 2007), the Kathy Potts novels ('A Midwestern Yankee in King Ovin's Court', 'The Chained One', and 'Kingdom No More') 'Righteous Tyrant', and the novellas 'Empty Prayer', and 'Unfinished Fugitive'. He is 32 years of age, and lives in Minnesota with his fiancee, Katie, and their daughter Avery.

'Heavy Is the Crown', much like his fanfiction novel 'Steel Nightmare' (Megaman X story), was written in its entirety on an outdated HTC smartphone with Windows Mobile in Microsoft Word Mobile.


End file.
